


Free to Fly

by SpencerRemyLvr



Category: Criminal Minds, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Spencer, Bombing, Death Threats, FOH, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mutant Rights, Mutant Spencer, Original Characters - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Mutations, Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Protective Avengers, Spencer's sort of adopted, Violence, Weekly Updates, by everyone, every Sunday, original character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 66,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6786406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/pseuds/SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a moment of pain and terror, the carefully constructed life that Spencer's built around himself is blasted into pieces. Secrets he's kept from everyone are brought to light and there's no going back. All he can do is face it head on and try to build something new from the ashes. Fortunately, he's not going to have to do it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For Spencer Reid, numbers had always come easily. He’d never really had to put much effort into thinking about them. In some ways he even found them calming. There was just something about working through a set of numbers that was relaxing for him. Sometimes he could lose himself for hours in mathematical problems and just let the rest of the world fade away. It was almost, meditative.

But even for Spencer, the stack of ledgers in front of him was slightly daunting. As he stood in the small office of the local homeless center—commonly called ‘The Center’, it was a place for the homeless with one building that was open for eating and sleeping, and another building that was built as a rec center in an old YMCA building—he stared at the desk stacked high with ledgers, boxes of papers, and random receipts. “I’ve been gone a month.” Spencer said slowly. His eyes were wide as they traveled over everything. “A _month_. How on earth did _this_ happen?”

The woman standing beside him gave a half-smile and sheepishly ran a hand through her blond hair to push back the bits that had escaped from her ponytail. Usually, the thirty five year old woman was rather calm and composed. She had to be, to run a place like this. Brianna Lewis had been running The Center since she had first opened it almost nine years ago. Before that, she’d worked at the YMCA and had thought that she and everyone around were going to lose it when the company had to pull out. Spencer had been the one to help her prevent that. With their brains and Spencer's silent financial backing, they’d managed to take this place and turn it into what it was today.

New to the city at the time, Spencer hadn’t known many people, but a friend of his had connected him with Brianna. When Spencer had left Caltech to join the Academy, his friend had given him Brianna’s name and contact information and told him that if he ever needed help, she was the person to go to. She was considered the unofficial mutant contact in DC and had helped many a mutant who was in trouble. Whether it was a quick escape, a bed to sleep in, a place to hide, or connecting them with someone, somewhere else who would be able to help, she acted as the local liaison for the mutant community, albeit in a very underground manner. It was how she stayed safe and how she kept her ‘clients’ safe.

There were very few people in the world that knew Spencer Reid was a mutant. It was a secret he kept very well hidden.

His powers were something rather unique. Spencer was only twelve when they manifested; just fresh out of high school. And, like most mutants, they’d manifested under trauma.

He’d been walking home from the store one night, out way later than any twelve year old should be, and he’d been dumb enough to try and take a shortcut that had put him in the territory of a gang that was rather new to town. One that was very vocally anti-mutant. They’d seen Spencer, someone who was known to have mutant friends, and no amount of running had been able to get him away from them. To this day, Spencer firmly believed that his mutation was the only thing that saved his life. The beating they gave him, he could’ve handled. He’d handled worse ones. But when they dragged him up and threatened to “see if the freak can fly!” he’d known he was in trouble.

What happened next was still a little hazy sometimes for Spencer. He remembered fighting, remembered being dragged somewhere, and then he remembered the feel of open air around him and sheer terror moments before pain ripped through his body and his spine felt like it erupted from his back.

The words that Spencer used now to describe his mutation were simple. It was a form of animal morphing; his mutation gave him avian like qualities without turning him fully into a bird. Sharper senses, faster reflexes, better balance and agility, claw retraction, a strong lung capacity—and wings.

Those wings were what pulled from his back that day and they were what save his life.

Because his mutation was a form of animal morphing, it meant not only could he bring all those physical aspects out—the wings, the claws, even a bit of feathers and down along his face, neck and ears, as well as a small crest of them threaded through his hair—he could also bring them back _in_. He wasn’t sure how. How giant wings big enough to be capable of flight were able to pull back into his back was a mystery to him that he’d never been able to figure out. Yet, they could. It was his sort of saving grace. The one thing that allowed him a semi-normal life.

Spencer knew he was lucky that his mutation was actually capable of being hidden. There were many more who _couldn’t_. It was only the fact that he could hide his that allowed him to have his job at the Bureau.

Being a mutant who worked at the FBI wasn’t the safest thing he’d ever done. Having to hide himself wasn’t easy and it definitely wasn’t fun. It was worth it, though. The job was something he loved and being able to help people was exactly what he wanted to do. Working at the Bureau gave him that. It let him help people who couldn’t help themselves.

Working at The Center allowed him the same.

To the rest of the world, The Center was just a homeless shelter, a rec center, a program made to help people. But it was so much more than that. It wasn’t made to help regular people, though they did. The Center was there to help _mutants_.

In the almost nine years that Brianna had been running the place, with Spencer's discreet help, they had turned it into a local mutant shelter. Many of the ‘homeless’ who came through here were, in actuality, mutants. They gave them a safe place to be; a place to rest and eat and somewhere to go when they needed to run. Countless mutants had been smuggled out of the city through The Center.

It wasn’t safe for Spencer's name to be attached to this place just on the off chance that something ever happened or they drew the attention of people they shouldn’t. Keeping his name from it kept him safe; Brianna had insisted on doing it. But he’d backed them financially for a long time and he had a vested interest in things just as she did. He also came in frequently to do their books, such as he was doing today. He just hadn’t expected there to be so much chaos when he came in. As he’d said to her, he’d only been gone a month!

Bless Brianna, she made sure to make up a pot of coffee as Spencer settled in to work. Even with his skills this was still going to take a few hours.

Spencer sat at the desk in what was considered _his_ unofficial office and worked his way through the books. He logged away purchases, dealt with donation information, balanced out the payments for the few things they actually did charge for. It wasn’t too difficult to do. There was a lot of paperwork for an organization like theirs, one that relied mostly on donations and random funding, and a discreet beneficiary whose name would never be recorded.

At some point Brianna left him alone in there. “I’ve got to go meet up with a guest.” She told him, laying down a tray of food beside him. “He’s here to help make sure some of our friends get to new homes. Now, make sure you eat some of this, Spencer. I’m not having you starve on my watch. And I’ll stop back by in a bit to yank you out of the books. You should at least spend a little time with the people today. I know Timothy’s been wanting to talk to you about some book or another that he brought in, and Zep misses you. Don’t work too hard!”

With that last warning she’d left him alone and Spencer had lost himself entirely in a world of numbers.

He’d gone so deep in it he didn’t hear anyone coming towards the office. But his head snapped up when the door burst open. Sixteen year old Zep, one of their most common visitors at The Center, was standing there clutching the doorframe with his green eyes wide and his black hair windblown as if he’d run the whole way here. There was a tremble to the thin, slender body that had Spencer immediately on alert. “Doc, you gotta sound the alarm, now. We got FOH coming.”

That was all it took to have Spencer moving. One hand reached under the desk to the panel there and he quickly pressed the button for their alarm. Zep wouldn’t come to him with this if it wasn’t true. He was one of their best sources on the streets and his facts were never wrong.

All through The Center silent alarms would be going off, alerting staff to a situation. Every single staff member here was a mutant or was mutant friendly. All of them would work on getting everyone out of here as quickly as they possibly could. This alarm meant was trouble coming and to get everyone evacuated, now, or at least to somewhere safe.

Spencer was on his feet a second later and he rushed out of the room, with Zep moving to follow at his heels. “How far out, Zep?”

“We got minutes, _maybe_.” Zep said. “I didn’t get word in time, Doc, I’m sorry. I couldn’t get here any faster.”

“It’s fine. Any notice is better than none.”

They were just barely downstairs before they heard the first crashes and the sound of screams. _Oh, God._ A low moan built in Spencer's throat and was ruthlessly choked down. He tried to run faster, almost falling down the stairs, but his legs couldn’t carry him fast enough to get there before there was the sound of gunshots. They came from all over, gunshots and screams and the sounds of terror unlike anything this building had ever housed before. Fear and panic rocketed in the young genius and he wanted nothing more than to fling himself in that room and do anything he could to stop this. Years of training held him back. It was the only thing that kept him from racing in and getting himself killed right along with everyone else. No matter how scared he was, no matter what else he felt, he’d been trained to be an agent and those instincts were what pushed to the forefront. Spencer flung out an arm to stop Zep from racing past him. Yanking back, he shoved the teen behind him and against the wall. “Go down the hall.” He hissed, voice just loud enough to be heard over all the noise. “Get below and get every mutant we’re hiding out through the tunnels. Do it, Zep!”

Only when the boy was gone did Spencer turn back towards the rest of the building. Rushing in would only get him killed, he knew. To the right, towards the gymnasium, the gunshots were louder, the screams slowly dying off. Spencer went to the left. Over there was the rec room—and the children. They’d be in there watching movies or playing pool or doing their homework. They had plenty of kids, human and mutant alike, who hung out in there. If no one had gotten to them yet, they had to be the first priority. Evacuation had to come first.

Spencer hit the room at a dead run and was almost blasted off his feet by a wave of TK. It succeeded in slamming him against the wall and holding him there for the few seconds it took for the kids to realize who he was. Then the TK was gone. “Doc!” someone shouted out. Spencer looked up and found seventeen year old Jesse, the one with the TK, standing in front of a group of at least fifteen different kids while still more were crouched over behind some of the couches. _Saturday—movie day_ , his brain reminded him. That was why they were so full.

There was no time to waste. Spencer could hear the screams and the gunshots, everything getting louder, and he knew it wasn’t going to be long before they were here. There was no time for him to stand and panic. The agent in him was in the forefront and it had him shoving off the wall and moving towards the bookshelf nearby. “We need to get you all out of here, now. Come over here.” He felt along the books as he spoke until he finally got the one he wanted. A quick tug and the edge of the bookcase unlatched. When he reached out to grab it, Jesse’s hands were there to help, pulling it open. It revealed a hole in the ground and a ladder that led down to the underground suites, the tunnels that they had so carefully worked over the years. “Jesse, you go down first.” Spencer instructed. He turned to look at the rest of the group, motioning everyone forward. “All of you, follow him down. Richard,” The teen in the back perked up at the sound of his name. “Make sure everyone gets down safely. I’m putting you in charge of this. Get them in there and then hit the button at the bottom of the ladder. It’ll close the bookcase.”

“What about you?” One of the kids asked.

Already Spencer was turning around and moving. “I’ll keep them away from here. Go!”

Long legs carried him out of the room and back into the hallway. Spencer knew this was suicide; he knew that the FOH would have no qualms gunning him down just the same as everyone else. But all he could think of right then were all the people in here, all the lives he needed to save, all the ones who would be hurt if he couldn’t give them some sort of distraction.

Only, he didn’t make it very far. Just as he hit the auditorium, knowing that there was a group in there practicing their play, the doors on the opposite side opened and a man carrying a gun. The agent part of Spencer immediately logged away a few facts. The gun was a AK-47 and was held in a grip that was quite obviously familiar with it. The man holding it wasn’t bothering to hide his face and there was a fanatical light there that said that had Spence’s stomach sinking.

It took almost no thought at all for Spencer to launch himself forward and towards the group that were still standing on the stage, staring in terror at the newcomer. “Wait!” Spencer called out, flinging himself up there, hands held out at the ready. There were twelve kids total on stage, most of them teenagers. There was one, Myles, who was just a kid, no more than seven, here with his big brother. The kid was already sobbing. Spencer placed himself between all of them and the gunman and held his hands out in a plea to stop, to just listen. “Please, stop. Stop.”

“Why should I?” The man growled out. He grinned and lifted his gun, striding in with the confidence of someone who believes what they’re doing is right and who isn’t afraid to die for that.

Spencer kept his hands out, backing up only a little, trying to push the kids to move somewhat. If he could get them close enough, they could escape behind the curtain, get backstage, and maybe get out of here somehow. “These kids haven’t done anything to you. They’re good kids. _Innocent_ kids. They aren’t mutants. They’re just _kids_.”

“Save your lies for someone that believes ‘em.” The guy said.

With horror, Spencer watched him move, read the intent in his body language, and he knew what was coming next. “Run!” he shouted, already starting to turn. “Run!”

They’d only gone a few steps when Spencer heard the first gunshot—and then he heard something else. There was a giant rumble and the whole building seemed to shake. Horror lit Spencer's face as another rumble sounded, than other, and he knew what was coming. The next rumble was nearby, all around them, shaking them so hard it almost knocked them over, and then suddenly it seemed as if the whole world exploded. _A bomb_ , he realized. _They’ve set off a bomb._

Spencer didn’t think, didn’t do more than react. He spun towards the children and felt the familiar ripping sensation along his spine as his wings erupted from his back and he curled protectively over them all.


	2. Chapter 2

The whole world felt like it was made up of pain. That was what Spencer came back to; the sensation of pain. It felt like something was trapped in his lungs and he tried to draw in breath only to end up coughing his way back to awareness. The feeling of blades slicing at his chest and throat and the echoes of agony through the rest of him were enough to bring him back to consciousness and kick his brain back into gear. There was a moment of disorientation, a sensation of _what happened_ , that faded away as he blinked open heavy eyes and took in the carnage around him.

The room he was in no longer looked like a room. He couldn’t even place it as the auditorium. There were piles of rubble and pieces of the building laying everywhere and only a small source of light to illuminate all of it.

It was that source of light Spencer focused on. The thing was right in front of him, so close, and was glowing in a way that made his eyes hurt so much he had to clench them shut on a low groan. A second later it seemed to fade a little and then there was something soft and slightly gritty brushing against his cheek and the feathers along his temple. “Doc?” A voice asked. It was young, female, and sounded terrified. “Doc, wake up. Come on, wake up.”

“Hey, guys, he’s waking up!” Another voice called out.

Spencer tried to blink his eyes open again. Tried to think past the pain that was all over. “What’s going on?” he tried to ask. Only, it came out so slurred together, broken by another painful wheezing cough in the middle, that he wasn’t quite sure it would make any sense.

That soft thing— _a hand_ —brushed over his cheek again. “Try not to move, Doc.” The female voice said lowly. “You’re…you’re hurt pretty bad. You took the brunt of the blast, I think.”

The blast. That was right. They’d been…they’d been in the auditorium. A gunman. Then, an explosion. _Bomb. Someone set off a bomb._ Multiple ones, if his brain was remembering correctly. As soon as that all clicked back into place Spencer groaned and tried to open his eyes again. He had to check on the kids. He had to make sure they were okay.

When he opened his eyes he found that he was lying on his stomach on the ground. Once more he took in the chaos around him, the remnants of the blasts that he could faintly remember. There were bodies there, too, though. At least seven of them sitting or curled up around him. Another he saw in the distance, lying half under something. Very faintly he caught a hint of what looked like pink hair and grief slammed into him. His eyes closed for a moment to fight it back before he opened them again.

The light was still in front of him, though dimmer than before, and he could see now it was a cell phone. Someone had pulled out their cell phone to light up what would’ve probably otherwise been a pitch black room. It allowed him to see just how bad the damage was. It also allowed him to see the damage to those in front of him.

The female voice that had been speaking to him had to belong to the girl who was sitting right in front of him. A slender wisp of a girl, probably not over eighteen. His eyes traveled up to her dirt covered face and he found hazel eyes watching him with obvious concern. Blond hair hung filthy and matted around her head and it looked like there was something dark staining it. Dirt? Blood? He hoped it was the first. Seeing her face allowed him to place a name, though. _Naomi_. This was Naomi, one of their theater buffs. One of the ones who’d been most excited for the play the group had been planning. Spencer looked up at that dark spot on her head and then back to her face. “Ya’ okay?” he slurred out.

She stroked her hand over his cheek. “Shh, I’m fine. Just a knock to the head.” Naomi reassured him. Her eyes flashed to the group and then back to him. “Alec, Myles, Kenzie, Lucy, and Jeramiah are here, too. We… we haven’t been able to find anyone else.”

“Hurt?” Spencer managed to ask.

“Some bumps and bruises. I think…I think Alec has a broken leg. Lucy’s arm doesn’t look right either.” Naomi chewed on her lip for a second. Then she lowered her voice. “It’s been bleeding pretty bad. We got something on it but I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”

That was enough to have Spencer trying to push past the pain. He ignored his own hurts, though it was so damn hard, and tried to draw his arms up to push himself up off the ground. No sooner had he started to move than Naomi was pressing down on his left shoulder to keep him down. “Don’t move, Doc.” There was a wobble to her voice before it firmed. “You’re… you shielded us. There’s some, some of the roof or the wall or something on your, your wing. An your leg, it’s bleeding. You shouldn’t move.”

The pain in his leg had been registered already, though he hadn’t noticed the tacky feeling of blood until she mentioned it. Hearing about his wing had him instinctively trying to move it. Pain exploded in starbursts behind his eyes and he had to try and cut off the cry that wanted to tear past his lips. God, oh God, it hurt, it _hurt_! The pain rolled over him in waves until he thought he might pass out underneath it. Sheer willpower—Derek would’ve called it stubbornness—kept Spencer from giving in to the promise of relief in the darkness.

No, no, no, no, he could _not_ focus on that, he couldn’t let himself pass out from that. There were kids in front of him, seven of them, and they were his responsibility. They were his to care for. He was the adult here and he had to act like one. He had to take care of them and that meant _not_ passing out from the pain. But it also meant that lying here on his stomach pinned to the ground wasn’t going to be an option either. _I’ve got to help them. I’ve got to take care of them._ “Naomi.” Coughing again to clear his throat, Spencer forced himself to look up. “Your phone…any service?”

“It’s your phone. I found it in your, uh, your pocket.” He watched her pick up the phone and look at it for a second. “There’s nothing. We haven’t been able to get—Oh! There’s a bar here. Barely, but here.” She froze with the phone near his head.

Spencer ignored the way the light made his eyes hurt and tried not to groan. “Unlock it and go… into my contacts. Morgan. Call him.”

He had to close his eyes while he waited. A second later there was a tinny sound of ringing that quickly grew louder when she hit the speakerphone button. They must not dare risk moving the phone from where she’d found service.

Only two rings after it started, a blessedly familiar voice answered it. “ _Dude, Reid, I was just about to call you. We need you to come in. They’re calling all hands on deck. We had a bombing downtown an everyone’s in a panic._ ”

“Yeah.” The word came out lower than he liked, croaking a little. “I know.”

Immediately Derek’s voice changed. Spencer heard the sharpness to it as well as the concern. “ _Reid?_ ”

Spencer blew out a breath and tried to remember to keep calm. Even if he didn’t feel it, keep calm. If he panicked than the kids were going to panic. So Spencer tried to keep his voice as casual as possible. “My luck won out again.”

“ _Do not tell me you’re down there.”_

“If that’s what you want.”

There was some shuffling in the background and Spencer heard a few voices before suddenly there was an increase in sound and a change that Spencer knew meant he’d just been put on speakerphone. Sure enough, Aaron’s voice came on a second later. “ _Reid, where are you_?”

“I’m at The Center in the…” he paused to cough, “…the auditorium. Or what’s left. You’re on speakerphone right now, guys. I’ve got seven kids here with me and some in definite need of medical attention.”

“ _Everyone’s already on their way down there_.” Aaron’s steady voice reassured him the same way it always did in bad situations. “ _Can you tell us what happened? What’re we walking into?_ ” There were more voices in the background, quickly shushed.

Spencer eyed the kids around him, the way they all stared at him with wide eyes, all of them trusting him, trusting him to save them. He hated what they were about to hear and wished there was a way they didn’t have to. But he had to let his team know. “FOH stormed the place. Someone got word just moments before and everyone tried to evacuate, but they came in with guns.” Off to the side, Spencer heard a low sob and saw Myles lean in to his brother, Alec, who held him a little closer. Spencer blew out a shaky breath and gave another cough. “I tried to get a group out of the auditorium. But the next thing I knew, there were explosions and the whole building came down. I don’t know how many got out or how many survivors are around. But I don’t imagine the FOH will stick around. They’re more the type to attack and run.”

That many words in a row was almost more than Spencer could manage. He had to pause to cough again, this time longer and harder than the last, and the agony it put into his stomach was enough to blur his vision and make his ears ring. _Definitely a few broken ribs._ His bones had always broken slightly easier than most. He assumed it had something to do with his more avian like physiology. There was something at his side, too, something wet, and as his cough faded he got the faint hint of a metallic taste in his mouth.

There were voices calling his name that Spencer couldn’t answer. However, one of the kids did. He heard one of them saying “He’s hurt pretty bad. I think he’s, he’s pinned. He tried to shelter us.”

Spencer wanted to tell him to be quiet. He wanted to shush him, to warn him not to say a word, but there was no point and the young genius knew it. There was no way he was going to be able to hide this. No way to keep his wings secret after this. Not with one of them injured and trapped. His team would come in, rescuers would come in, and they’d all see what he was. Any other time and Spencer would’ve been panicking over that. Right then, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. He had to focus on the kids.

“I’m fine.” He finally managed to get out. “Hotch, this place was full today. There were a lot of people in here. I don’t know how many got out, but there’s going to be a lot of injured, and there’s going to be a lot of them that run the chance of being mutants.”

“ _We’ll make sure everyone’s as safe as possible.”_ Dave said firmly, his voice surprising Spencer a little. He hadn’t realized the older profiler was there.

He knew he could trust them. He had to trust them. His team had always been fair to mutants. None of them seemed to carry any sort of prejudice. Fear of their reactions had never been one of the reasons that Spencer kept quiet about his own mutation. He’d just never wanted to put them in the position of having to cover for him. To lie for him. He’d wanted them to be able to honestly deny knowing anything if the truth ever came out.

“We should go.” Spencer mumbled. “Need to… preserve the battery. It’s our light.”

“ _Just hang in there, kid. All of you._ ” Derek said firmly. _“We’re on our way. Just hang in there till we get there._ ”

It was the only thing Spencer could do. He had to trust that they would get to him. That his team would come. Right now, it was the one thing he was hanging on.

Once they hung up the phone, there were other things that needed to be done, things that Spencer couldn’t get up to do. He needed to be able to assess the damage done to the others and make sure that no one was going to bleed out before help arrived. In lieu of using his own hands, he had to settle for using someone else’s. “Naomi, if I walk you through it, can you do a bit of triage?”

“I can.” Naomi’s voice sounded firmer than she looked. She was scared, he knew, but she’d try.

They never got the chance to. Before Spencer could even begin to speak, there was another sound nearby, one that had them all going still. It was the sound of something shifting. Moving. Spencer went on high alert and his one good wing snapped up and out in an instinctive attempt to shelter the others. His wingspan was rather large and it didn’t take much effort to try and drape that wing over them, though it ached when he did, telling him that he might not have broken anything in that one, but he’d damaged it at least some.

Then the shifting stopped and a voice called out. “Anyone in here?” The voice asked. “We’re here to help. Is there anyone in here?”

“Over here!” Lucy shouted, a sob of relief breaking into her words. “We’re over here!”

There was a moment of fear in which Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if this was really someone coming to help them or someone else, someone far more sinister. Because there was no way rescue people could be here yet to help. It wasn’t until he turned his head and saw who was coming towards them that he relaxed a little and let out a sigh of relief that quickly turned into another cough. Those weren’t any of the FOH or anyone like that coming towards them. The two men that were climbing through the rubble were _X-Men_. Though Spencer had never met them, both he and Brianna deciding it was smartest to keep Spencer firmly away from them when they came back, he knew enough to know what they looked like and to be able to name the two that were coming towards them now. They were Wolverine and Gambit, two of the most common ones to come through The Center. They often came to pick up kids and get them out, quickly.

The crying from Myles got a bit louder and Spencer saw a few of the kids slump down in relief as the two men came into view.

“Hang on, everyone.” Wolverine said as he climbed over one rock and slid down towards them. It wasn’t easy to see him; the dark made it a bit difficult. But he and Gambit climbed over the broken stuff and slid down into the little bubble of safety this group sat in. As they got close, Spencer saw that Wolverine had a bag slung over him—a medical bag.

The feral man moved as if to come towards Spencer first and he shook his head despite how much it hurt to do so. “The kids.” Drawing his wing back and trying not to hiss at the movement, he used it like a limb to gesture towards Lucy. “She’s got a potentially broken arm and was bleeding. Alec’s leg is broken as well, and Naomi has a head wound. I haven’t been able to inspect anyone else.” He cut off to cough, the air scratching his chest and lungs.

Gambit moved with a light-footed grace over a bit of rubble to finally drop down into a crouch between Naomi and Spencer. “Yeah, can see how dat might be hard fo’ y’.” His words carried a thick Cajun drawl to them that managed to actually sound amused even in the midst of all this. He flashed a bright smile at Spencer and then turned to Naomi. “Let Gambit take a look at y’r head, petit.”

“Help’s on the way.” Wolverine said. He’d moved to crouch by Lucy and his touch looked surprisingly gentle as it moved over her arm and assessed the damage. “Rescue teams are already outside an they’ve got a team getting ready to start trying to get in here.”

“Did anyone get out?” Spencer asked.

Gambit nodded. “A few. We got people of our own out dere dat got some.”

A sigh of relief slipped from Spencer. He let his body slump just a little down onto the ground. His cheek came to rest of the dirty floor under him and he closed his eyes for just a second. Thank God some of them had gotten out. And there was help here now too. Two people that he knew their reputations enough to know they could be trusted with the care of the children. Spencer didn’t have to keep up his strength anymore. He didn’t have to be the only grown up. There were people here to help now.

The young genius hadn’t realized how long his eyes had been closed until suddenly a hand was patting at his cheek. “Hey, hey, none of dat.” Gambit’s drawl rolled over him, thick as molasses. “C’mon now, _mec_. Wake up. Y’ can’t be goin’ to sleep.”

Spencer tried to blink his eyes back open and found them heavier than he’d expected. _That’s not good_. “’M not sleeping.” He mumbled.

“Course y’ aint.” Gambit answered promptly. He gave another pat to Spencer's cheek, just a little firmer this time. “Just keep dem eyes open, y’hear? Dey look like some pretty eyes.”

That was the first time Spencer had ever heard that. Usually when he was like this, people were a little put off by his eyes. Like a birds, there was no sclera, no white part of his eye. There was just his pupil and then the iris took up the rest. His irises stayed brown, just as they did when he looked ‘normal’.

“Wolvie.” The sound of Gambit’s voice seemed a bit sharper now and Spencer tried to focus on it, worried. Was something wrong? Was something wrong with the kids? But then he heard “He’s driftin’ too much. Toss y’r bag on over. We gotta see about bindin’ some of dis.”

Spencer tried to shake his head and pull back from the hand that was still cupped over his cheek. “The kids…”

“De kids are fine, cher. Don’t y’ worry, we’ll take care of ‘em.”

“He protected us.” A soft voice said. It sounded like Naomi, or maybe Lucy. Spencer wasn’t sure which. “We didn’t even know he was a mutant. But that bomb went off and he just, his wings came out and wrapped around all of us and he tried to keep us under him.”

Of course he did. They were children; it was his job to protect them.

There was the sound of shuffling and Spencer blinked heavy eyes, only to see that Wolverine had come closer at some point and was now moving down towards his lower half—the lower half that Spencer had tried so hard to avoid looking at. He felt a gentle touch of something near his leg and tried not to groan. Someone sighed and the touch went away. “We aint gonna be able to move him, not yet.” Wolverine said lowly. He moved in closer and his voice dropped so low Spencer wouldn’t have heard it without his heightened senses. “His leg’s sliced clean open an he’s bleedin’ pretty hard. Looks like a piece of the wall came down on his right wing an it’s pinned down there. I’m thinkin’ his arm might be too. There’s no way we’re getting him outta here without a real doc an a stretcher.”

Gambit let out a low, barely audible curse. His hand started to stroke over Spencer's cheek, up into the feathers along his temple. “I’ll stay with him. Y’ lead de kids out, Wolvie. It aint safe fo’ dem in here.”

“It aint safe for you two, neither.”

“Don’t matter. He can’t move and Gambit can’t just leave him here. Y’ t’ink dey’re gonna treat him well when dey get in here and see his wings? DC aint exactly a hub of mutant appreciation.”

If only they knew just how true that was. It wasn’t going to go over well at all when they got Spencer out of there. There was going to be no hiding this. Not with how injured he was and how many of the kids had seen him. He wouldn’t’ be able to hide his mutation anymore. The Bureau, his team, _everyone_ was going to know. Spencer wouldn’t be able to hide himself. The thought of that pained him and he closed his eyes against it.

A second later the hand on his face was patting again. “Hey! Keep dem eyes open. Is Gambit borin’ y’ dat much, cher?”

“Tired.” Spencer said lowly.

“Bet y’ are. Just hang on a little longer, hm?”

Wolverine’s voice interrupted them. “I gotta get somethin’ on this before I go. If you can hear me, kid, you lost a lotta blood here. I’m gonna put something there an tie it off an hopefully keep it under control till rescue teams get in here. It’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch but it’ll help. Just try an hold still for me, all right?”

Hold still, right, he could do that. Spencer nodded and tried to brace himself as best as he could. Really, he knew better. There was no bracing for that kind of pain. One second it was just a low hum and the next it was like white hot knives were slicing away at his flesh, down into his muscles and even his bone. His whole body clamped down and he felt his wings both try and snap out. The right one couldn’t move, but it added to the pain, and he tried not to scream.

There was a moment there where Spencer knew that he blacked out. It felt like the blink of an eye as he went from earth-shattering pain to this sort of aching mixed with a strange numbness. When he blinked his eyes open again he was surprised to realize that his head was laying on something soft down and there was a face right there in front of his with a gorgeous pair of red and black eyes staring right at him. The hand on his cheek was still there, stroking gently over skin and feathers, and he could see the man’s lips moving but it took a moment for the words to start to come through. “…right, cher. Y’r all right. We’re gonna get y’ out of here, don’t y’ worry. De rescue teams are comin’.”

A look around showed that they were alone. Where on earth had everyone gone?

The question must’ve been obvious on his face because Gambit immediately answered his unasked question. “Wolvie got dem outta here. Y’ blacked out fo’ a little while after he wrapped up y’r leg.”

“You should go, too.” Spencer said softly.

Gambit snorted at him and pressed in a little closer. He was under Spencer's wing, the genius realized. He was lying underneath Spencer's good wing and almost cuddled up against him, one hand up on Spencer's face and his other arm pillowed under his head, keeping them at eye level with one another. “Gambit aint going nowhere. Not gonna just leave y’ here. We found as many others as we could an de Wolverine will help get as many out as he can. Some of our team is helpin’, too, getting de ones out dat we can. Not even de feds out dere are gonna protest havin’ mutants on rescue effort. Everyone’s getting out as quickly as dey can. _Mais_ , we can’t move y’, not without real doctors here to help y’ afterwards, an dere aint no way Gambit’s gonna leave anyone alone for dis. He aint leaving y’, cher. Besides,” Abruptly the serious look faded away and Spencer was graced with a bright smile that lit up the dusty face. “Gambit’s always happy to keep company with a gorgeous companion.”

To Spencer's surprise, he found himself huffing out a soft, painful laugh. “I’m afraid I’m not at my best right now.”

“Dat sounds promising.” One of those unique eyes winked at him. “Maybe once y’r feeling better y’ll show dis Cajun just how good y’r best really is.”

“Do you often try to pick up people who are bleeding to death beside you?”

The Cajun scoffed. “Y’ aint dyin’ on me, cher. If y’ do, how’m I gonna collect on dis date?” He made a low ‘tsk’ sound and shook his head. “Y’ can’t tease a boy with de promise of something an den not deliver. Aint no one ever told y’ dat? Y’ got ol’ Gambit’s hopes up now. He’s gonna hold y’ to it.”

Another weak laugh slipped from Spencer, broken only a little by his cough. “You are slightly insane.”

“It’s been said.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile at him. Tired, and just slightly afraid that maybe he wasn’t going to make it out of this, he didn’t feel his usual shyness. He just focused on Remy’s eyes and tried to anchor himself here, refusing to just lie there and give up. “I tell you what.” He said softly, coughing again and grimacing at the pull in his ribs. “If I get out of here, as soon as I’m able I’ll see what I can do.”

“A nice dinner.” Gambit said, smirking. “None of dat cheap shit, neither.”

“Of course not. There’s a place…” Another cough broke through and Spencer fought to hold on through it. His ribs felt like they were grinding together and he could taste blood in his mouth and against his lips. _Not good. This is not good_.

Gentle hands stroked over his skin until the cough was under control. Then Spencer felt the edge of a sleeve against his mouth. Gambit didn’t comment on the coughing, or on the blood he found there. His voice was just as clam as before as he said “Tel me about dis place. Y’ take all y’r dates dere?”

“Don’t date.” Spencer wheezed out. _I’m so tired. God, I’m tired!_ He fought past that, afraid that if he gave in again, it might be the very last time. “Never… never taken anyone there. I know the… the cook.”

“Ohh, y’ got an in with de chef, huh?”

“He tries to, to fatten me up.” Another cough, smaller this time. Spencer pressed his face down into the soft thing under his head. _Focus on the conversation. Don’t think about the pain or anything else. Just keep talking. Focus_. “He’s nice. A great chef, too. You’ll like his food.”

“So, dinner, maybe a nice bottle of wine. What else, cher? What else y’ gonna do with Remy?”

The use of the man’s real name barely even registered in Spencer's mind. He focused hard on their conversations, trying to use it to keep himself anchored here, to hold on as tight as he could. “Dancing. They… they have dancing there, and a band that plays.”

“Sounds perfect. What next?”

“Dessert. Paul makes the best desserts. We could…we could take it up to the roof. Enjoy it up there and watch the stars…”

It was too much. Spencer tried to focus, tried to think past the pain and the swirling in his head. His eyes drifted closed of their own accord. Spencer swore he could hear someone calling out for him, someone slapping at his face, but he couldn’t focus on it. With a whisper and a sigh, the world faded into dark.


	3. Chapter 3

It took way too long before rescue crews made their way into the auditorium. Remy counted down the seconds in heartbeats as he huddled up to the freezing cold body in front of him and focused on the steady rise and fall that signified the man he was watching was still breathing. Still alive. Spencer, one of the girls had said his name was. Spencer. A man who had apparently shielded these children with his own body and taken as much of the damage as he could. A man who, while choking on dirt and blood and who knew what else, had still managed to keep those kids safe and calm until help could arrive.

By the time the rescue crews finally broke through the one wall and filled their little spot with sunshine, Remy was about ready to try lifting up the rocks himself and dragging Spencer out of there.

He pushed up to his feet and started snapping orders almost as soon as the first man came into view. “We need paramedics in here, now. He’s lost a lot of blood an he aint conscious no more. He needs help!”

What came next wasn’t something that the Cajun would ever forget. He had no idea what it was about this man that drew him in so much. He just couldn’t seem to leave him, not even when the rescue team set about trying to free him, or even as they got him out from underneath the bit of wall that had held him in place. Someone tried to get Remy back, to convince him to go outside, and he snarled at them. “I told him I aint leavin’ him and y’ aint makin me a liar.” Then he moved right up and, with gentle hands, helped to lift Spencer's good wing. They couldn’t just tuck it on him, not without strapping it down, and other hands were already trying to help hold up the broken one, so Remy kept hold of the good one and kept it folded as close as he could.

Even unconscious, Spencer didn’t escape from the pain. It showed in the tight lines on his face and the little whimpers that he gave as his body was moved.

Remy stayed by his side the whole time. Through the rescue and as they finally got him out of the building and towards the waiting paramedics outside. He pulled his sunglasses on, sheltering his eyes against the glare of the sun and the eyes of the crowd, but there was no hiding the enormous wings that they were all carrying out, and the crowd went wild with the sight.

It was as they neared the ambulance that they became aware of their first problem. How on earth were they going to get him inside? His wingspan looked like it was over twenty feet, total, if his wings were stretched out. Maybe more? Remy had no idea. Drawing them in would help but it would also hurt him. “We don’t have much choice.” One of the paramedics said lowly, looking at the wing in his hands. “There’s no other transport. He needs a hospital.”

“What hospital is going to be able to help _this_?” Another paramedic said, gesturing at the same wing.

Remy was already bristling, all set to snap at them, when another voice spoke over them and drew all their attention. “We have a truck prepared _and_ a doctor on hand to help treat him, as well as a hospital close by that agrees to house any injured mutants for treatment by Dr. McCoy.” Scott Summers voice was firm and steady, a solid rock amidst the chaos. When Remy turned he found his field leader striding towards him with Logan, Jean, and Hank there with him.

When it looked like a paramedic was going to protest, Scott steamrolled right over him. “I’ve already spoken with the FBI as well as the man from Homeland Security, both of which have cleared out presence here so long as we’re assisting in the care of mutants. Your hospitals aren’t prepared to treat their unique physiology. _We_ are. If you have problems, you can speak to those agents back there. For now—Phoenix, Beast.”

Jean and Hank both hurried forward and Remy stayed with Spencer's one wing, keeping his hold on it even as the other two moved to Spencer's other side. Jean used her TK to hold Spencer's wing up and Hank immediately started looking at it. “We should be able to fold it slightly. The elbow joint appears bruised but not damaged. However, I’m unsure of the wrist joint. Keep it stable for me as I move the rest, Phoenix, please. Wolverine, I need you to steer us towards the truck. We need this to be as smooth a ride as possible.”

In just moments the X-Men had complete control of the situation. Remy went right along with it and helped to fold the wing he held, wincing when it made Spencer moan ever so slightly. A blanket was laid over top of him which Hank carefully strapped down with the gurney’s straps. “He’s as secure as we’re going to make him. We need to move, now.”

No one questioned it when Remy came with them. He climbed up into the truck and helped Logan in lifting the front half of the gurney while Hank lifted the back. Once they had Spencer settled, he stayed there with him, unwilling to part from him. “Is he gonna be okay, Henri?” He asked as soon as the others moved away.

The blue-furred mutant looked up briefly and then back down at the leg he was examining. “I will endeavor to do my absolute best. He is not the worst injured that I have seen to today.”

That made Remy wince. “How many were dere?”

“We have found thirty two injured so far, twenty of which were mutants, though only eight of those had visible mutations that required special treatment.”

Remy didn’t bother asking after the dead. Later, he would find out, and he would mourn the ones that he’d known. This was a place he’d come to many times and he’d known quite a few here. For now, he needed to focus on the ones that were alive, the ones that they’d be able to save. That would have to be enough. Later he’d mourn, just as the rest of the X-Men would mourn, for all the lives lost today, and for the ones that no one else would care about.

* * *

Hospitals were never one of Remy’s favorite places to be. It was even more difficult for him when he was stuck waiting on word for more than one person. The hospital that they had gone to had been cleared out as much as they could specifically to take on injuries from this attack. Humans and mutants alike were brought in and the operating rooms were overflowing. Medical staff was rushing around, trying to do everything they could. Those that weren’t drastically injured were shipped off to other hospitals further away, unless they were a mutant. All mutants either stayed here or slipped out when no one was looking.

Because of the mutants here, and because the attack had been _against_ mutants, the presence of law enforcement around the building was strong. Unfortunately, law enforcement wasn’t exactly all that comforting to someone who was a mutant. Too many mutants had bad experiences that left them unwilling to trust.

The X-Men were guarding the hospital as well. How Scott and Charles had managed to get all of that cleared was a mystery to Remy. He knew that Charles had some serious connections and he knew a disaster like this tended to push some politics to the side, at least for a little while, but he’d been sure they were going to have to make due. He hadn’t expected so much cooperation. It felt, strange. Uncomfortable. And he couldn’t stop himself from waiting for the other shoe to drop. This goodwill wasn’t going to last. It never did. Eventually it was going to run out and _something_ was going to happen. Remy was going to be prepared when it did.

Remy shifted a little in the hard hospital chair and tried to keep his grimace inside at the press on some bruises.

When the alarm had first sounded, Remy had already been downstairs meeting with Brianna and the few mutants that were hiding underground. The sound of the alarm had jumped everyone into action and they’d had to scramble to take in the sudden inflow of people coming down multiple escape hatches.

Hearing the sound of the gunshots and screams above was something Remy wouldn’t ever forget.

He and Logan both had just been getting ready to go upstairs when the bombs went off. What came next was a job that never got any easier no matter times he’d done it. Remy had seen plenty of bombings and attacks. He’d waded through the aftermath of what some types of war could leave behind. Logan had as well. The two of them had gone upstairs—or, what remained of the upstairs—knowing full well how bad it would be. That didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

They’d found piles of bodies, people who didn’t make it out, people who were dead before the blast ever went off. What groups they found alive, they did everything they could for.

Bless Hank and the rest of the team for hurrying out. It meant that those mutants that needed medical attention were going to get it.

Pulling a pack of cards from his pocket, Remy started to shuffle them, needing to do something with his hands while he waited. The absent gesture helped soothe him down and relax him as his memories went back over the afternoon.

When they’d found Spencer and his group, Remy had been sure there was no one left. He hadn’t believed that anyone would’ve survived in that section of rubble. Yet when they’d dug in to check, because Logan insisted he heard something, they’d found Spencer and seven kids in there. Seven relatively uninjured kids. But the first sight of Spencer had stunned him.

The very first thing he’d noticed was the giant brown and white wing stretched out overtop the group of kids like a security blanket. It wasn’t until they’d gotten closer that they’d been able to see more details. Like the fact that the man was lying on his stomach with his other wing pinned down, or that he was bleeding pretty badly. There’d been blood on his face as well, dripping through the dirt and grime there, staining what looked to otherwise be smooth skin and soft feathers. Really, even in the midst of all that, Remy hadn’t been able to help admiring that face and wondering what it looked like when it wasn’t covered in filth and blood and marred with lines of pain. There was a dusting of soft feathers over the man’s temples and forehead, even down his cheeks like some kind of sideburn. There’d been some on his neck, too, and it even looked like there were feathers threaded through his hair. And his eyes – he had such pretty eyes. Eyes that, despite the haze of pain in them, had been surprisingly sharp.

When he got better—and he was damn well going to get better, Remy wasn’t going to entertain any other thought—the Cajun was going to see about cashing in on that date Spencer had promised him. Sure, it’d mostly been a way to distract him, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t take it and run.

Remy sat there in his chair for a little while and entertained himself with thoughts of what that date might be like.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of the nearby TV get turned up. The newscaster was talking about the bombing, of course, and Remy found himself drawn almost against his will towards the story. He watched the man standing outside the wreckage that Remy had previously been in the middle of. Then there was suddenly a picture up on the screen and everything inside of Remy froze over. There, on the TV, was a picture of… _Spencer_. Only, it didn’t quite look like him. There were no feathers on his face, no wings, no unique eyes, no anything to even hint that the man might be a mutant.

Remy pushed up to his feet. He was moving towards the TV before he’d even given it conscious thought. When he got close, he was finally able to hear the voice of the newscaster and what he heard only made his shock grow. “… _missing somewhere with the wreckage. Dr. Spencer Reid is a member of the BAU, an elite team of profiles who are tasked with profiling and hunting down serial killers, rapists, and some of our countries worst criminals. Our sources say that Dr. Reid placed a call to his team from directly inside the wreckage. As it stands, there’s no word that any sign of him as been found so far. As you can see his team stands patiently by waiting for word of their missing friend…_ ”

The camera broke away from the picture of Spencer and fanned out to show another view of the wreckage, this time with a group of people very clearly the focus on the sidelines. There was no doubt they were a group that was banded together, all their eyes on the piles of rubble in front of them.

Remy stared at the TV in shock. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that the Spencer he’d seen and the one on the TV were one in the same. The ramifications of this were pretty damn serious. It was an easy bet that the Bureau didn’t have any idea that they were housing a mutant in their midst. How long would it take before word spread about the bird-like man who had left and who matched Dr. Reid’s description? How many people at the hospital had seen him and would put the pieces together the same as Remy was right now?

This was bad. This was really bad. And not just because he’d started to like the kid, either. Survivors were already at risk. The guys who had done this had wanted to send a message to the world. If they found out that one of their victims was secretly FBI, there was every chance it would make Spencer a target. They’d want to come after him even more.

They had to get in front of this as quickly as possible. Remy grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and strode away from the TV while he dialed. A second later he was holding the phone up to his ear and listening to it ring. Remy moved outside, wanting a cigarette while he started to try and figure out what to do next. When the voice on the other end finally answered, Remy wasted no time. “Scotty, we got trouble.”


	4. Chapter 4

Shit hit the fan a whole lot faster than Remy had anticipated. It took not even an hour after he placed his call to Scott before the hospital was starting to fill with people and reporters were outside. They’d already been there, at least some, because this was the hospital where all mutants were being taken to. But they had something they considered a lot bigger to report now. Remy stood in the closed off waiting room that the hospital had secured for them and watched the stories unfold on the television screen.

Scott, Jean, and Logan all stood with him, watching as a reporter took what they could only guess was this poor agent’s biggest secret and poured it out for the world to see.

“ _Sources inside the hospital have given a positive identification._ ” The reporter said, looking far too gleeful for what he was doing. “ _This is the third such report we’ve received in the last hour. It appears that Dr. Spencer Reid was found earlier inside the wreckage. What makes this report staggering, beyond an FBI agent being inside what is now known to be a mutant shelter, is the reports that apparently Dr. Reid himself is a mutant. We have video here of him being removed from the wreckage. As you can see, there is no denying the validity of these claims. The wings sprouting from his back make it very clear…”_

The picture on the screen shifted into a video that had to have come from a cell phone. It clearly showed Spencer being brought out on the stretcher, Remy just barely visible with one wing while the other was held up clear and very visible, the damage on it there for anyone to see. Watching it made Remy feel sick.

He wasn’t the only one. “How can they do this?” Jean sounded horrified and furious. “I can’t believe someone was actually standing there with a cell phone videotaping something like this!”

“People’ll tape anything. It’s a technological age, Jean. Everything goes up online.” Scott said, sighing heavily. He looked just as pained as she was. “This isn’t the only video. There are plenty that are already up all over Twitter, Facebook… you name it, people are posting them there.”

Logan let out a disgusted snort. “They don’t give a damn about the lives they might ruin. The kid’s a damn _hero_. They should be praising him! From what I got from people I talked to, apparently he got plenty of people out and then went and threw himself back in the midst of all that shit just to try and save more. He sheltered those kids. If it weren’t for him wrapping around them, they would’ve been dead. They should be praisin’ him, not vilifying him.”

The whole thing made Remy want to vomit. He wanted to scream and rage at the idiots out there. He wanted to go out there and march right in front of the cameras and speak his piece about this whole thing. For Spencer, for the victims, for those who had died today. He wanted to demand just who the hell these reporters and people thought they were!

It wasn’t just Spencer that was being vilified. He was just the most prominent name, thanks to his status at the FBI. The others were on the news as well, their names bandied about as if it meant nothing, as if they weren’t basically setting these people up to get hurt in the future. Remy knew that every name that was listed was another person that was going to be even more at risk than before. Everyone who was exposed was now at risk not just from the FOH bastards coming back and trying to take them out, but from the general public that still hated and feared mutants.

“Emma should be here within the hour.” Scott said, his face still turned towards the TV, watching as another clip was showed of more people being pulled from the wreckage. “She’s bringing a team with her to help get out of some of the people. There’s room at her school to hold them and she’ll be able to keep them safe. We might not be able to stop everyone from realizing that some are leaving, but once we get them out no one’s going to know where they’ve gone. She’s willing to take in families, too, and help them settle down somewhere new.”

“Three of our shelters have gotten back to us and they’re preparing for whoever we can get to them.” Jean added in.

It was the one positive thing that was coming out of this. The mutant community was banding together in the face of this, one of the biggest things to happen to mutants for a while. This wasn’t something that was going to be able to be hidden. It was all through the media, not just in DC but nationwide. Earlier, Remy had gotten onto his phone and seen that the hashtag _#DCmutantbombing_ was trending. There were other ones, hate filled ones that made him see red, but there’d been one or two positive ones as well. There’d been people who had offered whatever kind of help they could. They might not be able to rally as safely as anyone else could, but the mutant community was trying to find a way to offer support.

Remy broke his gaze away from the TV and tried to get control of his temper. He couldn’t keep watching the story up there. Not without getting the urge to start charging everything in sight. Instead, he focused on the things that he could handle, the things around him that needed dealt with. First and foremost, he asked “Dere been any word on any of de patients?”

Something sad flashed over Jean’s face. “We lost two on the table.” She looked away, taking a second to gather her composure before focusing back on them again. “The rest seem to be doing okay. So long as we can keep them safe, Hank’s confident that most of them will make it. Some are a bit risky and he’s got them sectioned off in a secure corner of the hospital. Two of them are high risk. We’re not entirely sure whether or not they’ll make it through the night. If they do, their chances will go up tremendously. As for our celebrity… the last I heard, Hank and two doctors were still working on him. There was a lot of internal damage that they had to deal with.”

“He’ll make it.” Remy injected the words with a lot more confidence than he felt. But he refused to believe otherwise. Lips curving, he smirked at his friends. “Anyone who makes it through what he did is too damn stubborn to give up.”

Any further conversation was cut off when a voice came over their earpieces. The four of them immediately snapped to attention when Betsy’s voice suddenly said “ _Guys, we got incoming. FBI are on their way up._ ”

Well, shit. That had happened quickly. Remy looked over to Scott, whose expression had turned hard. It was obvious the man was thinking what the rest of them were. There was no telling how these agents were going to feel about finding out one of them was a mutant. Luckily, there was no way they were going to be able to get in around Spencer yet, not while he was still in surgery. It’d give them time to get out there and get a feel for these people. Because there was no way in hell they were going to let anyone around _any_ of these mutants if they were going to cause trouble.

“Thank you, Betsy.” Scott answered her. He looked around at the others while he visibly straightened up and drew the role of leader around himself like a cloak. “I directed those at the nurses’ station to direct anyone like that straight in here. They’ve also been warned not to give out any information.”

Logan snorted again. “Yeah, cause that’s worked so far.”

Yeah, the fact that people knew about Spencer at all was testament to just how ‘well’ that restriction had worked. Remy reached up to check that his sunglasses were in place as he watched Scott turn to scowl at Logan. “I can’t control everyone. We’re doing the best we can here, Logan.”

On a good day those two could fight like cats and dogs. On a day like today, their short fuses were even shorter. The stress of this whole mess made it a lot easier for them to start snapping and sniping with one another. Not that there was any real, serious heat to it. Still, it wasn’t something that they needed right now. Jean stepped in and laid a hand on Scott’s arm in an attempt to stop it before they really got going. “We can focus on our leak later. Right now we should focus on dealing with these FBI agents. If they’re his team, they’re going to want to know how he is, and so long as they’re civil they’ve got the right to know.”

The keyword there was ‘if’. Remy wasn’t going to hold his breath that the FBI was going to be civil about finding out that one of their own was a mutant. He could hope, for Spencer's sake, but he wasn’t going to count on it.

It only took minute after Betsy’s warning before the door to their private waiting room opened and a nurse walked in, a group of three people—two men and a woman—right behind her. One glance was all it took for Remy to recognize the three from the image he’d seen on the TV of Spencer's team. One of them was an older gentleman with dark hair, though his facial hair showed a hint of lighter color coming through. He was dressed casually, jeans paired with the shirt and suit jacket, yet he was clearly FBI. Though he didn’t scream that as loudly as the dark skinned man beside him. This guy looked every inch the burly FBI agent. Stern and serious, right up until you reached his eyes. Those had a worried look to them that told Remy the guy wasn’t anywhere near as calm as he was trying to appear.

It was the woman with them who stepped forward. She was slender and pretty, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and her bright blue eyes didn’t waver in the least as she looked over them all and finally focused on Scott. “You must be Cyclops.” The woman said, taking a step forward. She held her hand out without hesitation—a good sign. “I heard you’ve been the one in charge of organizing relief efforts for the mutant community. I’m Jennifer Jareau and these are my coworkers, agents David Rossi and Derek Morgan.”

Ever the mannerly one, Scott shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He drew back a step when he let go and it was a clear little snub. He was letting her know that he wasn’t trusting her. That he wasn’t trusting any of them. From his spot leaning against the wall, Remy gave a small smile of approval. Good for Scott. Their field leader arched an eyebrow over his visor. “What can I do for you, agents?”

“I think you know why we’re here.” The older gentlemen said. David Rossi was watching Scott, a corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, and Remy got the impression there wasn’t a whole lot that this man’s shrewd gaze missed out on.

The other man, Derek Morgan, gestured towards the still playing TV. “It’s been all over the news.  We’re not looking to cause trouble. We just want to verify that this is, actually, our teammate.”

“I’m so sorry, but that won’t be possible right now.” Jean moved to stand at Scott’s side. She projected a sort of calm and yet apologetic air around her. Remy had never quite figured out how she did it. She wasn’t an empath, so she didn’t have control of her emotions the way that empaths did, yet she still managed to project a calming aura around her. It made it nice for the Cajun to be with her when his shields were giving him trouble. It also made her perfect for situations like this. She smiled at them and spread her hands out in open apology. “The person you’re asking after is still with the doctor. He’s not up for seeing anyone right now.”

“We just need one look. Just a quick look to confirm it’s actually him.” Derek said, taking one small step forward.

In response, Remy pushed off the wall, not crowding into their space but making his presence known. It had the desired effect. All eyes turned towards him. He focused solely on Derek, though. “She said no, mec.” Remy warned him. “His medical care is more important dan y’r need t’know.”

Dave reached out to Derek as if to put a hand on his arm and draw him back. To the surprise of the room, Derek shrugged it off and took another step forward. That look that Remy had noticed in his eyes before grew a lot stronger as they ran over everyone there. “Listen, I know you’re probably trying to protect him. I get that and I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. But we’re not here to hurt him, okay? I don’t care if the news is right. I don’t care if he has wings. Hell, he could sprout feathers, scales, or turn himself blue—I don’t give a damn. That kid you’ve got is my best friend and he’s been like a little brother to me for years. When that building blew up, I’m the number he called. I promised that kid a long time ago I’d do everything in my power to look out for him and that’s not gonna change just because he’s a mutant.”

Jennifer spoke next, her soft words just as powerful next to Derek’s impassioned speech. “We’re not just a team, we’re a family. Spence is the godfather to my son. Please, we just, we need to know that it’s him, and we need to know he’s okay. Those are the only things that matter to us right now.”

Nothing that Remy got off of them suggested that any of them were lying.  He exchanged looks with the rest of his team and saw that they’d noticed the same thing. These people seemed to honestly care for Spencer. The fact that he was a mutant wasn’t important for them right now; the fact that he was their friend _did_. They cared about him. In the face of that, how could they deny them?

“Your friend has been hurt very badly.” Jean said. It was no surprise that she was the one to speak up. She had the gentlest manner of any of them in here. “We weren’t lying when we said that he’s currently with the doctor. When the explosion went off, he was in the auditorium with a group of children. From what we were able to gather, he wrapped them up and sheltered them.”

Derek huffed out a rather shaky breath. “Of course he did.”

“Because of his unique physiology, your friend requires specialized care. Right now that’s exactly what our team doctor is providing for him. Dr. McCoy has plenty of experience in treating all types of mutants. I promise you, he is the best bet your friend has.”

With one hand Jennifer reached out for Derek. Not to stop him, not to do anything, just to hold on. “But it _is_ him.” The words were more statement than question, yet still Scott nodded at her. A shaky sigh slid from her and her eyes slipped closed.

Dave was the one to speak now. He turned himself towards his teammates and reached out, laying a gentle hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. “I’ll call Aaron and we’ll get things started on that end. You two stay here and help them keep this hospital secure. You saw some of the reporters out there. The last thing we want is any of them getting in here. And as soon as you get word on Reid, you call us, you hear?”

Only once they’d promised to contact him did Dave turn to give the X-Men a brief thank you before he was heading out of the room, his phone already out and in his hand before the door had even shut behind him .That left the other two agents standing there together looking just a little bit lost. Scott stepped in before the silence stretched on for too long. His voice was gentle yet firm as he told them, “As much as I know you’d like to wait in here, we’ve arranged a room across the hall for the families of our victims to wait safely inside of. It’d be best for you if you went in there to wait.”

“Why there?” Derek asked, eyes narrowing. “Why not in here?”

Scott didn’t flinch at his tone. “My job here is to protect every single mutant brought into this hospital, Agent Morgan. I can’t exactly do what’s best for them if I have two FBI agents sitting with me.”

The blunt words had Derek rocking back a little, but they also had him nodding.

In short order the two agents were escorted by Jean over to the room where they’d be able to wait for word on their friend. Remy watched them go, worrying gnawing at his gut. It was a good thing that these agents seemed to accepting of their friend. Something told Remy the rest of the Bureau might not be so open minded.


	5. Chapter 5

Eleven hours.

That was how long it took for word to get back to the people waiting on news of Spencer. Eleven hours since he’d been brought to the hospital. Eleven hours of x-rays, tests, bone-setting, and surgery, before finally Hank McCoy and the rest of the medical team felt secure in the stability of their patient. It had taken a lot of work, but Hank was confident he was going to make it. Just as he was confident his other patients would make it as well.

Stripping off his cap and tossing it into a laundry bin, Hank took a moment to himself to wash up and breathe, to just relax from the tension that had been sitting in him for hours now. Then he gathered himself up and made his way towards the waiting room where his friends were.

It was only Remy, Ororo, and Scott in there when Hank returned. The others were doing their shifts around the hospital, working to keep the place as safe and secure as possible. Remy had just returned from his own shift and had barely stretched out in his chair when the door opened and Hank came in. Immediately the Cajun was on his feet. One look at Hank’s face had Remy hurrying forward, Ororo right beside him. The two got on either side of Hank and started to move him towards a seat. “Sit down, _homme_. Y’ look bushed.” Remy said.

“Thank you, Remy.” Hank didn’t even fight it. He let the two guide him down into a chair. When Scott stepped in front of him and held out a cup of coffee, Hank smiled up at him before taking it. “Thank you.”

“You’ve definitely earned it.” Scott said. “I wish I had something better than hospital coffee to offer, though.”

Hank shrugged one shoulder and took a sip off the strong brew. “Right now I doubt the taste will bother me. The caffeine is reward enough. It has been quite the long day.” He sat back in his chair, watching as Scott pulled a chair up to be able to sit in front of him. It was to him that Hank started to make his report. “Unless any others are brought in to us, all of our victims have been treated. Three of the injured mutants brought in tonight were beyond our care.” Hank paused there, a moment of silence for those that they’d lost. He saw the others do the same. To his side, Remy had his head bowed and he made the sign of the cross. After a brief pause, Hank continued. “I have the utmost confidence that most of the rest will survive. There are some injuries that will require extensive recovery time and proper medical care. Three of our patients most definitely cannot be moved tonight. They’re in critical condition and, as such, need constant medical care to give them the best chance possible. It would be best if they were kept here and safe for days, at the least, until I’d consider them stable enough to be moved.”

Most of the patients he’d already updated them on. He knew that Jean had relayed some things to them. Just as she’d relayed to Hank who exactly it was that he’d had on the table and the importance of the mutant he’d been treating. That would be the one they’d want to know about now. Reaching up, Hank removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes before reaching under his scrubs to use his shirt to wipe the lenses down. Only when he’d settled them back on his face did he speak again. “Our avian friend received quite severe damage during the blast. His bones seem to match with the rest of his avian physiology and are mostly hollow, though not quite as drastically as an actual bird. Even there, he’s a unique mixture of human and bird.”

“Hank…”

Ororo’s hand on his arm and her voice drew his attention and reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing. This wasn’t the time to talk or wonder about Spencer's mutation. “Right, right. My apologies.” Blowing out a breath, the doctor made himself focus once more. “From what I gathered, our friend in there sheltered a group of children when the blast struck, correct?” He waited for the nod from Remy before continuing. “When the blast struck, he took the brunt of it on his back and wings. We were warned that some of the rubble had pinned down his right side. There, he was lucky that his wings have the strength they do. They couldn’t entirely shelter his right arm, which was pinned with his wing, but it kept the damage from being too serious. He has a closed fracture of the radius in his right arm that we were able to treat without surgery, thankfully. His left arm bore a greenstick fracture, likely barely even noticed amongst his other injuries. We’ve casted that as well, down over his hand. But those are the least of his injuries.”

Scott was the one to ask “How bad is it, Hank?”

“His left leg was cut open from something during the blast. It took twenty two stitches to close the wound. Because of the circumstances and the conditions in which he was trapped, we’re going to have to watch that leg closely for signs of infection. He also bears broken ribs, most likely from the fore of impact slamming him down into the children and the ground. We can only speculate. However, because of the trauma to his ribs and chest, he also suffered from something known as a pulmonary contusion, which is a bruise to the lungs often caused by chest trauma. As a result of damage to capillaries, blood and other fluids accumulate in the lung tissue, which can interfere with oxygen levels. We attached a chest tube to help remove the fluids from around his lungs, and we also have him on a nasal cannula to provide him with oxygen. We’re quite lucky neither of his lungs have collapsed, though I’m concerned. They show a scarring that I’m unsure as to the cause of. I’m not sure what it’ll present in the future for his recovery. The rest of his internal injuries…” Hank grimaced. “There was quite a bit of damage to be repaired internally. He had damage to his liver and spleen as well as other internal bleeding. Those were what took us the longest to repair. I believe we managed to repair it all, however.”

A low curse slipped from Remy that Hank silently agreed with. “What about de rest of him?” The Cajun asked bluntly. “His wings… was dey somet’ing y’ could treat, cher?”

Hank tried to smile reassuringly at his friend. It was obvious that Remy felt sort of attached to the young agent he’d helped save. “I believe his wings will make a full recovery.  We’ve bound the right one as best as possible and have patched up any cuts present on both them. It would appear his wings protected him again when it came to his back. There seems to thankfully be no serious damage to his spine besides some deep bruising which will make recovery painful for him. But herein lies our problem.” For this Hank addressed them all. He and the other doctors had done the best they could but they were slightly stumped on what to do here. “We are unable to rest him on his side at the moment after his surgery and with the chest tube still in place, yet we cannot lay him on the broken wing that we’ve bound to his back. His other wing seems content to curl and drape around him much like a blanket, keeping it out of the way, but we’ve been forced to create a temporary rigging to hold his upper torso and shoulders off the bed so that his wing can rest half behind him and half over the edge of the bed. It’s not a viable long term plan, but it’ll hold for now.”

It was a pretty horrifying list to lay out for them. Not quite as bad as seeing it, but hard to hear nonetheless. Hank knew that Spencer's injuries weren’t as severe as others he had treated; some had been hurt quite a bit worse. But they all knew the kind of monster publicity could be and this agent was going to gather all the publicity. His injuries and treatment were going to be hot topics everywhere. More than that to them, he was a hero. One who had risked himself to save children and, by Hank’s estimation, who had apparently sacrificed a secret he must’ve kept most of his life, all to keep those children safe.

The door to their waiting room opened and everyone looked up as Logan stuck his head in. The feral’s gaze immediately went to Scott and the look there was enough to have them all bracing for trouble. “You better get out here, One-Eye. You’re not gonna believe this.”

Reaching out, Ororo laid a hand on Scott’s arm. “Go. Hank and I will handle speaking with Spencer's team.”

That was all the reassurance that Scott needed. He rose to his feet, gesturing with one hand for Remy to follow after him, and the two hurried over towards Logan. “What’s going on?” Scott demanded.

Logan pulled the door wide enough for them to come out and then fell into step beside Scott, leading his way down the corridor. “You’ll see.” Logan said cryptically. He flashed a grin that had just a hint of fang to it. “I got the feeling you’re gonna need to see it to believe it.”

* * *

Remy stared with wide eyes at the scene that met them as they exited the hospital. Ever since the news story had first been released about who had been injured and where they’d been taken, there had been a rather large crowd outside. Supporters, protesters, mutant haters, reporters. As best as possible the hospital security, some local police, and the X-Men had been doing everything in their power to keep people back and to make sure the hospital was not only safe and secure for the mutants inside, but that no person was prevented from getting treatment. Most serious injuries were still being taken to other hospitals for their safety.

But as Remy looked around him now there was none of the chaos he’d expected to see. Oh, sure, there were still shouting crowds, protesters loudly lodging their complaints, haters screaming out every kind of slur possible, and even people crying out love and support. But instead of being _too close_ like they had been, they were… contained.

Proper police barriers had been set up, with fences waist high that neatly kept the people back, and there was an opening in the middle that led directly to the front doors of the hospital. That opening was wide enough for two wheelchairs to comfortably go side by side. All along the barrier, there were men in jeans and black shirts standing like security guards at a concert, only a hell of a lot more dangerous. They were a real, proper security team, armed and everything. When Remy saw the name on their shirts, his shock grew.

_Stark._

Stark? _Stark_? What on earth was a Stark security team doing _here_? Beside him, Scott echoed the same question. “How’d we manage to pull a Stark security detail?”

“Don’t know.” Logan said. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it, not really caring that he probably wasn’t far enough away from the hospital doors. He grinned around the cigar and shrugged his shoulders. “They showed up about twenty minutes ago and began setting up.”

“Why?”

“Y’ really wanna look a gift horse in de mouth?” Remy countered. He pulled out his cigarettes and quickly got one lit as well, the smoke of his cigarette mingling with the smoke from Logan’s cigar.

Of course, Scott couldn’t just let it go. That wasn’t in his nature. He had to know things. Plus, he’d set them up as protection of this hospital. That meant that they needed to know what was going on. So the three set off together to head towards the guard right at the entrance, the one who looked like he might be in charge. The man was at least six foot five and looked like he could lift a car without any serious trouble. Yet when he saw them coming his face lit up with a smile that made Remy want to grin right back at him.

A quick word with the guard beside him and the man broke away, his partner stepping in to cover the entrance alone, and then made his way towards them. They met halfway between.

The man held his hand out as he got close. “You must be Cyclops.”

Scott only hesitated for a second before he reached out and shook the man’s hand. “I am. These are my teammates, Wolverine and Gambit.”

The man shook Scott’s hand with a firm grip that didn’t carry any of the posturing people sometimes liked to do. It was just simple and quick, a firm clasp of hands and a respectful nod to go with it. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Carlos Sanchez and I’m in charge of this security unit. I imagine that you’ve got quite a few questions for me.” He ignored Logan’s low ‘you could say that’ and just smiled again, folding his hands in front of him. “We’re not here to take over, gentlemen. Mr. Stark sent us here in the hopes that we might be able to help contain the trouble you have here so that you and your team are free to focus on the interior security and the care of the patients inside this hospital.”

The three X-men exchanged a brief look between them at those words. This whole thing was getting more and more confusing. Remy watched carefully, trying to read the man’s face as Scott asked him, “And why exactly is it that Stark wants to help _us_? Not that we’re refusing it, but, he’s never exactly shown a need towards helping mutants before.” Not many people really did.

Carlos didn’t look at all offended by what Scott had to say. If anything, he seemed just the slightest bit amused. One corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. “I don’t claim to understand how his mind works, sir. I just go where I’m told. But you can ask him yourself once he arrives.”

Wait a second… what? “Stark’s comin’ here?” Remy asked. His eyebrows had shot up again and he froze, cigarette dangling from his lips. Tony Stark was going to come _here_?

“He would’ve come with us directly, but he decided to wait until things calmed down just a little more. The last thing he wanted was to create a stir with his presence. Still, he sends his regards and a promise to show up as soon as he’s able.”

It didn’t make any sense. Stark involving himself in something like this made no sense at all. He didn’t worry about mutants and their issues. The man worried about aliens and Avengers and all of that crap. So why was he sending a team here to guard the hospital? None of it was really making any sense. It was like a giant puzzle with half the pieces missing. But Remy’s instincts were telling him that there was more to this than just Tony Stark being friendly.

He said just that to Scott once they were away from the security detail and back inside. “Dere’s more to dis dan just bein’ friendly.”

“I know.” Scott kept his voice a low murmur, conscious of the people around them. He looked around at the people bustling around the hospital. Even here, people seemed to steer clear of the group of them. It probably didn’t help that, though they weren’t in uniform anymore, Scott had his visor on instead of his sunglasses and Remy’s was still in his light battle armor. The Cajun wasn’t taking any sort of risks. None of them were. They knew it was only a matter of time before the FOH tried to come back and finish the job. They were going to be ready for it.

Logan was the one to put to words what they were all thinking. “There aint a whole lot we can do about it right now. Turning down the extra help would be stupid. For now, best we can do is make use of their help. The rest we’ll figure out _if_ Stark actually shows up.”

He was right. At the moment they had to much else on their plates to stand around wondering ‘what if’. They had to focus on the mutants in their care and keeping them safe. The extra security Stark had sent would definitely help with that. As for the rest of it, they’d figure that out when they got there. But in the meantime, Remy vowed to keep a close eye on things.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of beeping machinery and the sensation of pain were what made up Spencer's world when he woke. Any other time and he might’ve ruminated on just how sad it was that he could recognize the fact he was in a hospital before he’d even opened his eyes. How many times did a person have to wake up in a hospital before they got to the point where they could automatically recognize it? It was kind of sad. Spencer wasn’t focused on that pathetic fact, though. More than anything else what he focused on as he slowly dragged himself up out of drug induced sleep was the fact that his body _hurt_ and, oh thank God, he was _alive_.

One of the curses of Spencer's memory was his inability to forget anything. Though there was something in his system that was making his brain feel groggy and a bit slow, there was no confusion as to why he was here. All of it was right there waiting for him in foggy detail as he pushed past the drugs and gradually woke up.

Years of habit had Spencer keeping his eyes closed while he took stock of himself and his memories. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in pain. In the past, he’d learned to keep still and quiet so that he’d have time to figure out what happened and what was going on around him, whether or not it was safe for him to move or to let anyone around him know that he was awake. Because sometimes letting people know that he was awake meant opening himself up to being hurt once again. This time, he did it because he wasn’t he didn’t want to have to deal with anyone yet. Waking up in a hospital meant dealing with doctors, nurses, and concerned friends. It meant facing the world.

One of Spencer's wings tried to move and the pain that had been sort of muted flared up in a way that had him wanting to gasp. Okay, so, moving wasn’t a good plan.

God, how bad was it? How badly had he been hurt? He remembered the pain before he passed out. All the places that had hurt. What was the damage? Spencer thought of the wing that had been trapped and tried not to panic. The idea of having hurt it that badly, bad enough that it hurt to even twitch it now, was terrifying. Would it be broken? Was he going to be able to use it still?

In his plans to stay still and quiet, Spencer had forgotten entirely about the heart monitor they most likely had attached to him, or how his internal panic would be kicking his heartrate up.

He forgot about it right up until he heard a door open and footsteps start making their way towards him. “Dr. Reid?” An unfamiliar voice called out. Whoever it was stopped right near his bedside and Spencer could hear the person moving around, doing something, and he figured it had to be a doctor of some kind. Of course, he could simply open his eyes and find out, but that seemed like a lot of effort. “Dr. Reid.” The voice said again, deep and easy, a man’s voice that carried something strong yet steady to it. “Can you hear me?”

Spencer couldn’t just ignore that. Not if he wanted to keep from being poked at by a doctor trying to figure out why his heartrate was up and he wasn’t answering. Of course, answering would get him a different kind of poking around entirely, but at least he’d be able to give some sort of input on that. Trying to battle back the slightly surly side of him that always came out when he was in pain, Spencer focused on forcing his eyes to unstick enough to let him attempt to open them. It took a moment and a few steady blinks before he managed it. Even then, he had to blink a few more times to clear his sight enough to push past the painfully bright lights.

He rolled just his head to the side in an attempt to get away from the lights above him. When his fuzzy vision finally started to clear, he found the person standing beside his bedside.

The first thought that hit him as he saw the man covered in blue fur standing there was, _Oh, well, at least I don’t have to worry about my doctor being anti-mutant._ He didn’t realize that some of that had actually slipped past his lips until the man smiled brightly at him and chuckled. “No, you don’t have to worry about that, my young friend.” There was something about the man’s face that was warm and friendly. It set Spencer at ease. “My name is Dr. Hank McCoy and I’ve been one of the medical staff treating you since your arrival. I’m happy to see you awake and be able to meet you properly.”

Though the bit of fog that was still in his head, Spencer pieced together the name with what he was seeing and finally made the connection. “Beast.” He mumbled. After he said it, he realized how the man might take it, what he might think Spencer was saying there, and he worried for a split second before Hank chuckled once again and nodded at him. “Correct. I am Beast, and my team was part of the efforts that extracted you and the others from the wreckage. Any victims have been brought here and placed under my medical care while the rest of my team works to ensure the safety of the hospital. You are protected here, Dr. Reid.”

The others! Spencer's eyes widened as he thought of all the others. The kids he’d tried to shelter, the others in the building, the ones that might not have been able to escape in time. His brain was already pulling up a mental list of who might’ve been in the building and who might not have been close enough to the right kind of exits to make it out. “The others?” He croaked out. Please, God, let them be okay. Please say too many hadn’t been lost. _Even one is too many._

Hank’s hand came out and settled gently on a spot on the left of Spencer's chest. Until it pressed there, Spencer hadn’t even realized that he’d started to tense up, every inch of him preparing for the bad news he was sure to come. “Dr. Reid, you need to stay calm. You have quite a few injuries and you need to keep your body as still as possible. We’ve had a hard time trying to accommodate your injuries as well as those to your wing and because of that you need to be careful not to disturb the delicate setup we’ve established.”

Forget his own injuries. Those weren’t important right now. Spencer tried to keep the rest of himself still and he focused his eyes right on Hank. “The others? The… kids?”

“The children that Gambit and Wolverine found with you are well and safe.” Hank reassured him. He reached out as he spoke, gently touching the edge of the wing that Spencer had just noticed he’d wrapped over and around himself. It was his left wing, the uninjured one, and he was using it almost like a blanket. Hank nudged at the edge and Spencer obligingly lifted it, pleased when it only ached, and pulled it around towards his back. His body, he was noting, really was held up rather carefully, very creatively and gently propped up with a thick strap under his shoulders and some pillows on his left half. Under his right half and slightly hanging off the bed in yet another makeshift sling, was his right wing. The pillows made it hard but not impossible for Spencer to pull his left in.

As the doctor took advantage of Spencer's now exposed body to start looking over his stomach where Spencer seemed to have only a low ache and not much else—which didn’t match up with what he remembered or what _should_ be there—his words registered a little more. The kids that had been with Spencer were fine. But… “The others?” His voice scratched just a little and his throat protested, too dry to say too much. This was important, though. It was immensely important.

The profiler in him immediately took note of the way that Hank’s eyes dropped down to his stomach and how they refused to rise up to meet his. “Right now, why don’t we focus on you?”

Alarm bells were ringing in Spencer's head. That wasn’t good… that wasn’t good at all. He wouldn’t be keeping it from Spencer if it was good. He would’ve told him. That meant that there had to be a lot hurt. Or… a shudder ran down Spencer's body. “Don’t play those games with me. I’m not just some civilian.” Spencer rasped out. He was too afraid and in too much pain to tolerate any lies, or to try and be polite about this. “Those are my friends… my kids…” He needed to know how bad it was. How many had they lost? Who had managed to survive?

“Dr. Reid, you’ve been badly injured. You need…”

“I don’t care about what I need!” Spencer snapped. His voice cracked, his throat still so damn dry, and he had to swallow repeatedly to work up enough moisture to keep going. “My injuries are the least of my concerns right now!”

Instead of being thrown by the display of temper, Hank straightened up and looked at Spencer with alarm, one hand going back to the clear spot on Spencer's chest and the other reaching out for the wing that Spencer hadn’t even realized he was uncurling. The feathers were almost bristling and he knew his eyes were probably wide and a bit wild. “Please, Dr. Reid, you need to calm down. You’re going to pull your stitches if you keep moving like this.”

How bad did it have to be for Hank to keep refusing to tell him? Spencer's breath caught in his chest and he wanted to curl in, to wrap himself up in a protective hold no one would be able to break through. Without even giving it thought he pulled in his good wing and lifted it up so that the top was above his head. It draped the rest of his wing over him and hid him in a half-cocoon of feathers that effectively pushed Hank back and blocked Spencer out from the world. How many had they lost? How many had been hurt? Grief welled up in Spencer and threatened to choke him. Had Brianna made it out? Just the thought of losing _her_ was enough to make him sick.

What about Ian or Ezra? They would’ve been in the gym. Both were scheduled in that day to run classes. And what about Lisa or Mickey? Or Yvonne, down in the kitchens? Or Quota? He would’ve been in the gyms. He loved those classes. Tim, Ike, Zig, Sasha, Celine, Deno, they would’ve been there too. Had they made it out? Were they alive? Name after name played through Spencer's mind. He didn’t realize that he was gasping for air.

Something washed over Spencer suddenly. A heavy, weighted sensation that he knew. Part of him was coherent enough to start cursing against the familiar feel of the narcotics that washed through his system. Then it crashed over him and there was nothing left to be upset about. It washed over him and drew him down into the dark.

* * *

Remy hit the room about the time that Spencer slipped down into unconsciousness. Right behind him was Ororo. The two of them had been the only ones close when Hank had called for help over the coms. He hadn’t been able to say much, just that he had an emotionally agitated patient, Remy would’ve gone to help no matter what, but hearing that it was Spencer had him moving just a little quicker.

He took one look at the scene in front of him—Hank standing by the vitals machine, needle in hand, and the slumped figure in the bed with one wing draped haphazardly over him and down to the floor—and Remy started to move forward. He went to the loose wing first and Ororo came right with him, her hands gentle as she helped him to lift it. “What happened, Henri?” Remy asked, shooting the doctor a curious look that was tinged with just a hint of protectiveness.

Seeing that protectiveness had Hank’s lips twitching briefly. He got it under control and his expression turned serious. “Bring it back to the side.” He instructed them first, gesturing to the wing. “Let’s get it tucked loosely at his side. It might be more comfortable that way and I want it resting. He stretched it out far more than I like.” While they followed his directions, Hank moved to check over the marks on Spencer's stomach, letting Remy get his first glimpse of them. The stitches and bruises made the Cajun grimace in sympathy.

Hank gave a small sigh of relief when none of the marks looked to have suffered from things. Only then did he straighten himself up some. Gently, carefully, he began to check Spencer's bound wing. At the same time he finally started to answer Remy’s question. “Your Dr. Reid woke briefly. He asked about those that he was with, as well as those who were in the center.” Hank must’ve seen both Remy and Ororo wince because he nodded at them. “Yes, exactly. I tried to deflect as best as I could, but he wasn’t easily deterred.” For a second Hank paused, looking down at Spencer's face. Remy looked down as well, taking in the bruising there and the paleness. When he looked back up, he found Hank watching Spencer with something like wonder in his eyes. “He is a rare soul. He had absolutely no care whatsoever for whatever injuries he himself suffered. When I tried to explain them, he didn’t care. All he wanted to know was who else had been hurt.”

“Everything we hear about him leads me to believe he is a caring soul.” Ororo said gently. She tucked the bottom of Spencer's wing as best as she could and then straightened up. Unlike Hank’s serious face, or Remy’s worried one, Ororo was smiling as she looked Spencer over. “Aside from the impression he’s made on our own friends, I have come across many in my rounds here that have asked after him. Not just other staff from the shelter, but the youth as well. It would appear he is quite well loved amongst them all.”

The more that Remy learned, the more it seemed like the kid here in this bed was almost like some mythical creature. Everyone liked him, from staff to trouble teens to mistrustful mutants. His team, who it would seem hadn’t known he was a mutant before, were so stunningly accepting of that new bit of information. They had only kind things to say about their friend. It made Spencer sound too good to be true. There had to be something wrong with him. Something to offset all this. Everyone had their faults. Remy smiled at he looked down at the man in the bed, wondering what Spencer's would be. Did he snort when he laughed? Was he pushy? Did he have a temper? No sense of humor? A _bad_ sense of humor? He kind of wanted a chance to find out the answer.

“We won’t be able to keep things from him, Hank.” Ororo was saying in a gentle tone. Remy looked up to find his sister had gone to stand at Hank’s side, one of her smaller hands resting on his arm. “These people are his friends. His family, I would almost say. He has the right to know.”

Hank sighed. “I know. I just wanted to give him time to rest before we tell him. I get the feeling he won’t take the news well.” With another sigh, Hank shook his head, his expression tightening. “It never gets any easier, delivering this news. It is one part of being a doctor I have never enjoyed. There is nothing that makes it easier to tell someone of a loss.”

There wasn’t anything that either of them could say to that. They both knew it was true. Ororo gave Hank’s arm a gentle squeeze and he smiled at her, briefly reaching to pat her hand in thanks.

Remy stayed at Spencer's bedside even as the other to started to move away. With one hand he reached out and gently brushed a bit of hair back from the face he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since he’d first seen it. “What’re y’ doin’ to Remy, cher?” He murmured lowly. He tucked that bit of hair behind Spencer's ear and then let his knuckles move over the slight bit of stubble that was building on Spencer's cheek. He smiled a little. “Y’r gonna give a po’ boy a complex. Aint no one dis perfect, yeah?  We all got our faults. I can’t wait to start finding out y’rs.” One last stroke over Spencer's cheek and he dropped his hand away. Then, before he could think, he bent down and pressed a kiss against Spencer's forehead just the way that Jean-Luc or Mattie and even Henri had always done for him when he was sick or hurt. “I’ll be back, cher. Y’ just focus on getting better an I’ll come see y’ soon, I promise.”

One more look at Spencer's face and then Remy turned on his heel and left, not quite sure why a part of him wanted nothing more than to stay here with a man he barely even knew.


	7. Chapter 7

The next time Spencer really woke he was a lot more coherent than before. He had vague memories of waking up once or twice after that last time. Each time, things were sort of hazy and groggy the way they always were after anesthesia and medication. But this time it wasn’t the groggy, just-woke-from-surgery feeling. Nor was it the high-on-drugs feeling. Spencer woke almost normally, with slightly higher than normal pain levels, telling him that his last dose of medicine was starting to wear off and it would soon be time for his next.

He took advantage of the fact that he was alone this time—he had a feeling someone, or more than one someone, had been here those last few hazy times he’d woken up—to give himself a quick look over.

One of the first things he noticed was that the ache in his chest wasn’t as strong as before. Lifted the way he was, it wasn’t hard for Spencer to look down and see the bandage on his chest where he was pretty sure he remembered something else being earlier. He also thought he remembered a pain there for a brief while when he woke earlier. _Chest tube. That had to be a chest tube that they removed._ The fact that he couldn’t remember only served to irritate him. How much had they drugged him here?

Chest tube meant that there’d been chest trauma. Had a broken rib punctured one of his lungs? There were definitely broken ribs—he was sure of that. A few other broken things, too, judging by the casts he could see. Spencer couldn’t help but grimace at the fact that he had a cast on each arm. That was going to make doing _anything_ rather interesting. Eating, drinking, using the bathroom. Again, Spencer grimaced. Not that the bathroom was going to be an option for him any time soon. He wasn’t ignorant to the catheter.

It was the ache that was growing in his stomach, a sort of burning ache, that was really worrying, though. Spencer wanted to look at it, to figure out what on earth was going on, but with the casts there was no way he was going to be able to do the gentle inspection that he needed.

His eyes drifted to the IV that was attached to the exposed part of his left forearm. With both his hands covered by the casts, it was the logical next place for the IV to be, though it annoyed him. He’d have to be careful bending that arm. More important than the IV itself, however, was what was going _in_ it. Spencer's eyes traveled up the line to the bags hanging nearby. Still in his bird form, he was a bit afraid to try changing back, his eyesight easily picked up the words on the bags. What he saw had him seething. Fear filled him as well as a self-loathing that was far too familiar. _No. Dammit, no!_

Spencer's hand shook a little as he lifted it just enough to reach the small button on the side of the bed. He’d briefly contemplated just yanking out the IV before deciding there was no reason to hurt himself more. Right now he didn’t have the ability to take the IV out or even stop the one bag without causing some kind of damage. That left only one other option.

It only took a minute and a half after be pressed the button before the door opened and a female nurse hurried into the room. She was probably in her forties, with smile lines around her eyes that were already crinkling, her smile wide as she came into the room. “Dr. Reid! It’s so good to see you awake. Dr. McCoy said you should be waking back up soon. How’re you feeling?”

“I want you to stop the pain meds.”

The woman stopped just inches shy of his bedside. Obviously that hadn’t been what she’d expected him to say. Her eyebrows went up in surprise before they came down and a little furrow formed between them. “Dr. Reid, you’ve undergone some serious trauma.”

“I know.” Spencer interjected. His throat was so dry and the little spit in his mouth felt thick, a surefire sign to what was in his veins. Or, what his body was _craving_ to be in there. It was hard for him to get any words out. He had to fight to get each one out, forgoing manners in lieu of saying what was most important here. “I don’t want to be without pain medication. I simply want you to take away the morphine and provide me with something nonnarcotic. _Please_.” He managed to just barely tack on the please at the end. This wasn’t the woman’s fault. He knew that. This wasn’t anyone’s fault. They hadn’t known who he was which meant they hadn’t had access to his medical charts. There was no way they could’ve known that he didn’t take narcotics. Knowing all that didn’t stop Spencer from being angry, though. Or being afraid. _Two years clean and sober, down the drain_.

The nurse, much to Spencer's annoyance, didn’t do anything about the morphine bag hanging up beside him. She made a small note on his chart and gave him a professional smile. One that was meant to hide whatever she was thinking or feeling underneath. “Why don’t I go and get the doctor and you can speak with him?” She didn’t exactly give him a chance to say anything before she was hurrying out the door. Great.

He wished that his team was there with him. They would’ve made sure that no one gave him narcotics. Derek would’ve insisted on it; it wasn’t the first time he would’ve had to do it.

As soon as he thought of them, a pang went through Spencer's chest. No, maybe he _didn’t_ wish that his team was here. The idea of them being here right now was enough to have his heart beating a little faster. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to see them yet. They had to know the truth about him by now. Spencer seriously doubted he’d been lucky enough to slip out of there without being seen by anyone. Besides which, if they didn’t find him in the wreckage, he knew for a fact his friends would look around until they found him. They’d look all over, check every victim that came in, every single John Doe, until they found him. They wouldn’t stop.

Then it clicked in Spencer's head what the woman had been calling him. ‘Dr. Reid’, she’d used. She’d called him by name. That meant that his identity wasn’t a secret. People knew who he was. People knew that Dr. Spencer Reid was a mutant with wings. _They knew_. Spencer thought he was going to be sick. He hadn’t wanted to think about this before when he’d been lying in the wreckage. There was nothing to stop him from thinking about it now. Not even the worries about the morphine were enough to chase away these fears.

His team had to know the truth about him by now. Were they still going to want to come and see him? Would they be angry with him for lying to them? The idea of their reactions worried him more than the reactions of the Bureau or the general public. He could handle whatever came from that direction. What he didn’t know if he could handle was if his friends turned away from him.

The door to his room opened once more and Spencer shoved away his terrified thoughts. He watched as Hank came in, as well as someone else that Spencer hadn’t expected to see. Someone that brought a slightly surprised smile to Spencer's lips. Things were a little hazy at the end before he’d passed out that last time, but he remembered lying in the wreckage, and he remembered the people who had come to rescue them. The man in front of him wasn’t someone that he was going to forget. “Dr. McCoy.” Spencer greeted the doctor. Then he let himself smile a little. “Remy.”

Remy grinned without any shame or hesitation. He went around the foot of the bed and came up to the side with Spencer's uninjured wing, which gave a small twitch against Spencer's back. “Well hey dere, cher. Bout time y’ opened dem eyes of y’rs again. Pretty as y’r face is, it’s nice to be able to see dem eyes again.”

The way Remy spoke was just as flirtatious as Spencer remembered. This time around he wasn’t as distracted by pain and he found himself blushing a little. He smiled, too, not quite able to help it.

From Spencer's other side there came the sound of a low cough. The two looked over to find Hank watching them with amusement clear on his face. “If you two are through flirting…” Hank said dryly. He focused his gaze down on Spencer. “I understand you wished to speak to me about your pain medication.”

That reminder stole away Spencer's humor and had his body tensing all over again. “I understand that you didn’t have my medical charts when I came in, but I don’t take narcotic pain relief. Ever.”

There was a whisper of sound from Remy as he moved away from the bed. Spencer wondered briefly if the man was bothered by what Spencer was saying, if he understood and was disturbed by the implications. He only had a second to worry about it, though. Remy did something near the edge of the room and then he was coming back with a small cup in his hands. He came right up to Spencer's bedside and carefully sat down on the edge of it, facing towards Spencer. “Here, cher. Y’r throat sounds like it’s hurtin’ somet’ing awful.”

Spencer gratefully tilted his head up for the cup Remy brought to his lips. He didn’t even protest the hand that cupped the back of his head to help, nor that Remy held the cup as well. There was no way he was going to be able to hold a cup right now and he wasn’t sure if he really could hold his head up without support. The water felt like Heaven on his throat.

Hank waited until the cup was taken away before he spoke again. “Is there some physical reason you cannot take these, Dr. Reid?”

A grimace crossed Spencer's features. The way that Hank was looking at him told Spencer that he was going to just let this go. He was going to require a real, valid reason as to why Spencer couldn’t take them. The fact that he hadn’t already figured it out was kind of surprising. If Spencer had just refused the morphine, that would’ve been one thing. It could’ve been passed as an allergy. But to deny all narcotics? He knew the conclusions people jumped to when he said that. What made it worse was that it wasn’t wrong. Yet, Hank didn’t seem to be getting it, which meant that Spencer was actually going to have to spell it out. He fought back the urge to sigh. _So much for the playful flirtation with Remy._ That would probably end once Spencer said this. “No.” He admitted slowly. He refused to look at the Cajun beside him. “I’m a recovering addict, Dr. McCoy. That’s why I don’t take narcotics of any kind.” Unable to help himself, he found himself bitterly tacking on “I’ve already messed up over two years of sobriety because of this. I’d prefer not to make it worse.”

“Ey!” To Spencer's complete surprise, he found himself being flicked on the nose. It had him jerking back and snapping his eyes back over to Remy. The Cajun was still sitting on the edge of the bed, only now he was glaring just a bit at Spencer. “What’d you do that for?” Spencer demanded.

“Y’ was bein’ stupid.” Remy said simply. He ignored Spencer's outraged expression and tipped his head down enough that his eyes were visible overtop his sunglasses. The look there pinned Spencer in place. “What dey gave y’ when y’ was out, dat don’t count against y’. Sure, y’r gonna have dat feelin’, an as shitty as it is y’r probably gonna have de cravings I’m betting, _mais_ it don’t restart y’r sobriety, cher. Y’ didn’t fall off de wagon. Dat implies a conscious choice in de matter.”

“It’s still in me, whether I chose it consciously or not.”

Remy scoffed at him. “So? It was given when y’ was unconscious and after some pretty major surgery. De minute y’ realize y’ was getting it, de first t’ing y’ did was let us know to take it out. I’m betting y’ barely even hesitated.” He must’ve seen the confirmation on Spencer's face because he grinned smugly. “See? Y’ didn’t sit and enjoy de feel of it, or fo’get to mention it till someone came in. Y’ let it be known as quickly as possible dat y’ don’t take it. So don’t go being stupid an acting like dis counts against y’ or somet’ing. Y’ still got y’r two years, cher. Be proud of em.”

Some of Spencer's tension drained away at those words. The way Remy said it made it sound so simple. Like it just made perfect sense and he didn’t understand how Spencer didn’t see it.

Bless him, Hank didn’t linger on what was so clearly a sensitive subject. He was already moving towards the IV bags and Spencer watched with gratitude as the morphine was stopped. “There are plenty of alternatives that we can try. Are there any you’ve had in the past that you find works well for you?”

Spencer sighed in relief. “Yes, actually. The last time I had surgery…”

Ten minutes later Spencer was once more relaxing down into his bed. The morphine was gone and a new bag of an approved drug was in its place. His bandages on his stomach had been checked and changed, during which Hank had explained to Spencer the full extent of his injuries. It was a lot to take in, but it was also a lot less than it could have been—and less than he knew others had to deal with. It was the others Spencer asked about as soon as Hank finished detailing Spencer's injuries. “And the others? How bad was it?”

The way that Hank looked at him suggested he was going to once more try and get around answering that. Luckily, before Spencer could gather up the strength to argue, Remy answered for him. “We got quite a few outta dere.” He said, drawing Spencer's eyes to where he was still sitting on the edge of the bed. He’d helped Spencer drink down at least a cup of water but hadn’t bothered moving away once it was done. His expression was serious now as he looked down at the man in the bed. “Brianna was down dere with us, so she’s fine. She helped get de first waves of kids outta dere. De last count I heard from Cyke was fifty-two injured. Thirty one of dem were mutants.”

That… that was a lot. Spencer knew his eyes were wide. At the same time, he knew it could’ve been so much worse. The Center capacity was one hundred and fifty, staff included. They hadn’t even been half that. _It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been so much worse._ “Jesus.”

“We set up somet’ing with de hospital y’r in. Dey agreed to take in de worst an let us get y’ treated. Henri here’s been bustin’ his ass goin’ from person to person to help. De ones dat could be moved, we got em outta here as quick as we could.”

He imagined they had. At least he knew the X-Men would’ve made sure they were safely rescued from here. They would make sure the survivors got somewhere safe. But hearing how much had gone on, Spencer couldn’t help but ask “How long have I been out for?”

“Dis is de second day after de bombing.”

Two days? He’d been in and out of it for two days? Dammit, he’d probably missed so much. There were so many questions he had; so many things he needed to know.

As if sensing that, Remy kept going, the two of them ignoring Hank as the doctor checked over the stitches on Spencer's legs. “All de mutants capable of movin’ have been taken to a safe house. Any human victim was transported to another hospital where dey’d be safe. We’ve basically got dis place on lockdown. We got security, too. Not just de X-Men, _mais_ y’r team’s been helpin out a little an fo’ some reason we got our own Stark security team out dere as well. Helps to keep de crazies and de press back.”

“My team?” Spencer's eyebrows went up. His team was out there helping? _Of course they are. Even if they were mad, did you really expect anything less? They’re good people. Kind people. Of course they’re going to help keep these kids safe._

Remy smiled at him. “ _Oui_. Dat’s a fierce bunch’a people y’ got dere, _mon ami_. Dey’ve been staying here in shifts, waiting fo’ y’ to wake up. Dey’re all pretty eager to see y’. An de serious lookin’ one, de one with de eyebrows?” Remy’s expression shifted into the familiar, serious lines that Aaron usually wore, and it startled a laugh out of Spencer that had Remy breaking pose and grinning. “He’s said so long as dey was here, dey might as well help. So dey been takin’ security shifts with de rest of us.”

Of course they had been. That was just the type of people they were. Spencer closed his eyes and let the love he felt for his team fill him. Not only were they here, helping, from the sounds of it they were all impatiently waiting for him to wake up. They couldn’t be too mad at him if they were waiting around, could they? He should’ve known they’d stand beside him on this.

Something else that Remy had said before popped up and Spencer quickly opened his eyes again to look up at him. “Did you say there’s a Stark security team out there?”

“ _Oui_.” Remy agreed easily. “Aint quite sure why. Not dumb enough to turn it down, though, y’know?”

Groaning, Spencer tipped his head back a little and stared up at the ceiling. Of course there was a Stark security team out there. _Of course_. Because that was just his luck. “Please tell me that Tony himself isn’t here.”

There was a pause from below him. Spencer knew without looking that the other two were most likely exchanging looks over him. When Remy answered, he was just a bit more hesitant though still slightly cheerful. “Not yet. Apparently he wanted to wait a few days till t’ings calm down a little. Specially with all de media coverage out dere. De press is all up in arms cause it wasn’t just mutants dat was killed. FOH didn’t exactly pick and choose to find de mutants. Dey took down anyone in deir way.”

Spencer started to lift his hand towards his mouth in an unconscious gesture that he always did when thinking or stressing. The heavy feel of his cast stopped him before he got it an inch up. Letting it drop back down, he blew out a breath, grimacing when it made his chest throb. Oh, yeah, his ribs. Best not to do too much right now. Was there a part of him he was safe to move without making it hurt?

“I take it you know Mr. Stark?” Hank asked him, moving up to stand at Spencer's bedside.

One corner of Spencer's mouth quirked. “Yes. We’ve been friends for a few years now. He likes to periodically fly me out to visit him so he can show me something new at the Tower and attempt once again to get me to join his company. He’s been trying and failing for quite a few years now.” The smile that stretched Spencer's lips was more gentler and more honest than any had been so far. He turned to look at Hank. “He speaks rather well of you, Dr. McCoy. Which, coming from him is a rather glowing recommendation.”

“I quite enjoy his company the few times we’ve spoken.” Hank said.

“He’s a good person.” Spencer said easily. “He’s just… overprotective, I think would be the best word. Overbearing, maybe? He’s going to come in here and snipe and pick at me and most likely try to convince me that I need to go back with him where he can have his personal medical staff treat me until I’m healed. He won’t exactly like being told no.”

“Y’ know…” Remy’s voice sounded a bit hesitant, like he was reluctant to say these next words. A second later Spencer found out why. “It might be a good idea fo’ y’ to go with him. Just… just fo’ a while. Give y’ time to properly rest and heal.”

Spencer tilted his head and fixed sharp eyes on Remy. He narrowed them, staring at the man’s face. There’d been a lot more to those words than what was on the surface. A whole lot more. Spencer sifted through what Remy had said, the way he said it, and coupled it with the body language the man was showing now. The image that started to build wasn’t a good one. It only got worse as Spencer ran back over the things that they’d all said so far and the suspicions he’d already had about this whole thing. Only one thing made it all make sense and it put a weight over Spencer's chest. “They know, don’t they.” It wasn’t actually a question. It was a statement, said in a flat voice almost devoid of emotion.

The wince Remy gave was answer enough.

So, the press knew. They knew who Spencer was and they knew he was a mutant. Spencer closed his eyes and tried not to let the pain show on his face. This was a whole lot worse than the physical pain he was feeling. This went deeper. He’d known that his team was going to find out and he’d known that there was a good chance others would find out too. This would’ve been so hard to hide. But knowing and facing were two entirely different things.

Judging by the way Remy spoke of security and how he suggested that Spencer might want to go somewhere else to recover it suggested that it wasn’t going over all that well in the press.

More than that, though, the profiler in Spencer could see further implications in this. He was trained to look at these kinds of situations. Granted, he wasn’t usually in the middle, but he was trained to study them. If this was a case that he was working, he knew what he’d worry about next. He’d worry about the FOH coming after the survivors—after the big name survivor that was currently all over the press. The idea of taking out the FBI agent that was discovered to be a mutant, that would be a huge coup for them. They were probably salivating at the prospect.

Remy’s warm hand curled over Spencer's cheek, jerking him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to find that Remy had leaned in. His eyes were the first thing Spencer saw, sunglasses free, and they were what he focused on. There was compassion and understanding both in them. “It’s gonna be all right, Spencer.” Remy said softly. “Don’t y’ worry none. Between us, y’r team, an Stark’s security, we’re gonna keep y’ safe. All of y’.”

Spencer wished he could believe those words. He really did. But he had a feeling their trouble had really just begun.


	8. Chapter 8

It took a little while after the adjustment of pain meds and the following examination before Spencer was settled comfortably in bed once more. Or, as comfortable as he could be. The strap around his shoulders holding him up off his wing wasn’t all that comfortable and he really, really wanted to clear his head enough to be able to think of a way to rig up something a lot more comfortable. More than that, both of his wings were itching like crazy and it was taking everything he had not to uncurl them both and bring them around so that he could preen them. It wasn’t just the injuries that held him back. It was a bit of embarrassment, too. He didn’t want to sit and groom himself while the others watched on. Spencer had a hard enough time accepting that he was in his bird-form and neither man seemed bothered by it. He didn’t want to push it.

He didn’t have long to stew over it, though. Before Spencer could get too distracted by the itching feeling, he found his hand caught up by the man who was once more sitting on the edge of the bed. The touch had Spencer's head lifting and his eyes going right to Remy. The man was smiling down at him. Spencer tried not to flush under that look. Remy was far too attractive for his own good and even with everything going on Spencer still noticed it. How could he not? Long fingers curled over the bits of his that were exposed from the cast and Spencer relished in the warm, comforting touch. It was almost as nice as the sound of his voice. The way that accent—part Cajun, part something else he had no name for—curled over Remy’s words, thickening on some and flowing over others, was a pleasure to listen to. “If y’r all settled in an comfy, cher, y’ t’ink y’ might be up fo’ some company?” Remy asked.

That was enough to distract Spencer from both the touch and the sound of Remy’s voice. His eyes went wide as he registered what Remy was asking him. “Company?”

“ _Oui_. Y’r _amis_ aint left de hospital since y’ been brought in. Dere’s a few of dem here right now an I know dey’re bout dyin’ to come in an see y’.”

The idea of seeing them was both wonderful and terrifying. The fact that they were here at all was a good sign. But Spencer had no way of knowing just how mad at him they were going to be. Sure, they seemed okay to the others right now. They were obviously worried about Spencer. But how angry were they going to be with him for lying? For keeping this a secret? He hated the idea of that. Temper was never something Spencer had dealt well with. He’d learned to handle it better over the years. To not freak out when it was someone he didn’t know or someone who shouldn’t really matter. It was just when it was people close to him that he had a hard time dealing with it.

Something of his fear must’ve shown on his face. Remy gave a brief squeeze to Spencer's fingers and then slid his hand up to clasp hands with him, seemingly not at all bothered by the cast that made it all a bit awkward. “Why don’t Remy stay in here with y’, hm?” The Cajun offered. He smiled at Spencer. “Can keep an eye on t’ings an make sure y’ don’t push y’rself too hard. I’m sure Henri don’t want y’ up visiting fo’ long.”

The offer underneath those words was easy for Spencer to hear. Remy was giving him the cover of needing someone to watch him and make sure that he didn’t medically push himself too far. In reality, he was giving Spencer both protection and a buffer just in case things went wrong. The young genius felt guilty as he nodded at him. “Thank you.”

“ _Pas de problème_.” He flashed another quick smile at Spencer and then looked up to Hank. “Henri, would y’ mind sending de feds on down fo’ a bit?”

“Of course.” Hank agreed. Then he raised a finger and pointed it at both of them. “But no more than ten minutes. Then our friend needs his rest.”

Waiting around once Hank left was one of the hardest things Spencer had done. He tried not to fidget. Not only would that probably hurt, he didn’t want to show off just how worried he really was. Something told him that Remy already knew. Thankfully, the man didn’t say anything. He just stayed in his spot on the edge of Spencer's bed and continued to hold his hand. He was still holding it when the door opened and Derek and Aaron both walked in. When Remy made as if to get up, Spencer curled his fingers in to hold on. Immediately Remy’s hand stilled and he settled himself back down as if he’d never even intended on leaving.

Spencer's wings gave a twitch behind him. The urge to stretch them both out and around him was strong. He’d used to do it all the time when he was younger. When things got rough or he got scared, curling up in bed with his large wings around him, sheltering him from the world, was the place that he felt safest. The fact that he felt like that when faced with his friends was shameful. He shouldn’t feel like that around them! Especially not when Derek was looking at him with an open relief written all over him and even Aaron looked like he was suddenly much less tense.

“Reid.” Derek breathed his name out like it was a prayer. The sound of his voice seemed to break the spell that had fallen over everyone and Derek quickly closed the distance between him and Spencer. He stopped at Spence’s bedside, one hand lifting and then falling away like he wasn’t quite sure of where to put it. He was grinning, though. Wide enough that it put those big smile lines on his face and lit up his eyes. “Damn, kid, is it good to see you awake.”

Spencer looked up through his bangs at his best friend. The way that Derek met his eyes, not flinching at all, warmed Spencer even more. Few people were able to meet his unique eyes when he was like this without a little flinch or some sign of discomfort. Derek did none of that and neither did Aaron as he got close. Spencer felt some of his tension drain away. He smiled at his two friends. “Morgan, Hotch. It’s good to see you guys, too.”

“We’ve been worried about you.” Aaron said, joining Derek at Spencer's bedside. In a single glance he took in all of Spencer's injuries. One sweep of his eyes and then he looked back at Spencer's face and there was a gentleness in that look that so few people got to see. Only those that were close to him. Close enough to be considered family. “Everyone’s going to be relieved you’re awake. You might want to prepare yourself for that. Garcia’s already been hard at work gathering things to brighten up your room with.”

Derek chuckled. “He’s right. She’s already bought out half the gift shop. Don’t worry, though, not all of it’s going in here. I think she’s sent at least two or three things to every other survivor as well.”

That definitely sounded like Penelope. She was one of those people that just cared _so much_. It wasn’t in her not to care about people. Especially those that were hurt and alone the way that many of these young teen mutants were. She had a good one; Spencer loved that about her. Out of all the team she was the one that he knew would be the most understanding and the most sympathetic to his secret and the reasons that he’d kept it. He hadn’t had any worries about her.

Something about what Derek said had Remy perking up a little. He’d kept quiet so far, just sitting there and holding Spencer's hand. Now he turned himself enough to be able to look over at the two profilers. He’d slipped his sunglasses on at some point so his eyes were neatly hidden from view. But even with those on it was still easy to read the amusement on his face. “Dis Garcia, is she de _jolie fille_ with de bright clothes and dat happy smile? T’ink I saw her, me, bringing lots of flowers and balloons to de rooms.”

“That sounds like her.” Derek said, smiling.

“She made a lot of kids happy. Dere’s plenty of dem dat aint got no one to come here fo’ dem. Havin’ her come in an bring gifts to dem, it meant a lot.”

That was probably part of the reason why she’d done it. Penelope was just that type of person.  He just hoped she was being careful. He didn’t want her being hurt just because she cared. Still, he had to ask, “She’s being careful, right?”

“She is.” Aaron reassured him. “No one is alone right now, Reid. We’ve paired up to make sure everyone stays safe for the duration. Morgan’s with Garcia and Prentiss and JJ are together. Jack and I are even staying with Dave for a while.”

That took a weight off of Spencer's shoulders. It didn’t take away all his worries though. Now that he knew these two at least were okay with him—they seemed okay, even if they hadn’t said anything yet about his eyes or his feathers or his _wings_ —it left room for his other worries to slip in. Spencer had been out of it for a few days now and he knew there was so much that he’d missed. After the way Hank had reacted to Spencer wanting information, the X-Men wouldn’t catch him up on things. However, he knew his team would. They’d understand that Spencer couldn’t just lie here in bed. He needed to work. He needed to help protect those injured and try to find a way to catch the bastards that had done this. They weren’t going to get away with what they’d done. With that in mind, Spencer gathered up what he could of his energy and his control, both of which were starting to lag a little, and he pulled on the persona of agent. “Do we have any leads so far?”

Neither man pretended not to know what he was talking about. They didn’t bother denying that they were working this case. Spencer imagined that the Bureau wouldn’t be too happy with one of their teams working a mutant friendly case, and he was utterly terrified to ask how the Bureau was viewing _his_ mutant powers, but he also knew that it wouldn’t stop his team. This wasn’t something they’d let go.

Sure enough, the two agents exchanged one look between them, a silent conversation that Spencer read easily. They were debating the wisdom of sharing information or keeping it from him. Because they knew him, it only took a second for the two to agree on sharing the information. They both knew Spencer well enough to know that he didn’t do well with inactivity and lack of information. If he didn’t get it from them he’d find a way to get it somewhere else. Best if they were the ones to give it to him. Decision made, they faced Spencer once more. It wasn’t surprising that Derek was the one who started to speak first. “The group, FOH, they’ve been pretty vocal all over their social media. They’re not exactly trying to hide what they’ve done.”

“We think they’re working on the mentality that the entire group won’t be arrested to team in their group that was responsible for this.” Aaron added in.

That made sense. They were counting on the Bureau not wanting to go after such a large group, a group that they’d mostly left alone so far, and they were probably also counting on no one wanting to work too hard on a case where mutants were the victims.

Remy let out a low growl. His fingers briefly tightened on Spencer's and then deliberately relaxed. “Dey aint gonna be able to hide behind dat fo’ever.”

“No, they won’t.” Spencer agreed.

“Unfortunately, there’s not a lot we can go on right now to try and go after them. As soon as victims are able to speak, we’re going to start trying to question those that we can and see what they can remember. We might not be able to go after the group as a whole but we may be able to persecute the ones that actually did this.” Derek said. The way he looked in that moment told Spencer clearly just how happy his friend would be to get his hands on the ones who’d done this.

As always their Unit Chief maintained a cooler head. There was temper in his eyes, but the rest of him stayed calm. “There’s quite a lot of media coverage for all of this. For the mutant community, this is being equated to the Oklahoma City bombing. Only, instead of a McVeigh, we’ve got the FOH. It’s got tensions between the different communities at an all-time high.”

“People are going to seek retaliation on either side.” Spencer said, feeling just a little sick. It was what happened in situations like this. “Mutants who feel threatened by this are going to lash out at non-mutants, and in turn those groups will lash out in return. Not to mention plenty of people out there who are going to be emboldened by the attack and who’ll draw courage from it.”

Aaron sighed heavily. For a moment he looked older than his years, tired and weighed down by a lifetime of seeing the kinds of things that no person should ever really have to see. Then he straightened himself up and that moment of weakness was hidden underneath the strength that had gotten him so far in life. “There’ve already been riots. The local PD and the Bureau are doing their best to control the chaos in the streets and keep people safe, but it’s not easy.”

“Which is probably the goal.” Derek said wryly.

That got Remy’s attention. He sat up a little straighter and Spencer could read his new tension in the tightness of his jaw and the hint of a furrow between his brows. “What do y’ mean?” The Cajun said in a low, dangerous voice.

Neither Derek nor Aaron looked like they were going to answer that. Most likely they were realizing just how much information they were putting out in front of someone that, being one of the X-Men aside, was technically a civilian. Spencer, however, had no such qualms. He knew enough of the X-Men to know the types of things they’d seen and done. They had the right to know about this the same as the rest of them. “Most likely it’s part of their plan.” Spencer said, drawing Remy’s eyes to him. “It wouldn’t be surprising to discover that some FOH members are down in the streets helping to start these riots in the hopes that it’ll keep the police and the Bureau busy. If they’re busy trying to control this, it means they’re too busy to properly investigate the bombing. It gives them time to cover up anything that they need to and make plans.” He paused for a second before grimacing. “It also gives them time and freedom to plan any secondary attacks. They’re most likely hoping to keep them too busy to properly protect anyone here in the hospital.”

“Well dey’re gonna be fuckin’ disappointed den, aint dey?” Remy snarled out. His voice held a hint of a purr to it that made it sound so much more dangerous. It made Spencer shiver a little. Something told him this was a man he very much did not want to get on the wrong side of.

Spencer closed his eyes and sighed, laying his head back against the propped up pillows behind him. It wasn’t entirely comfortable but he was starting to feel tired enough that it didn’t matter. He felt sort of pathetic. They’d barely talked and here he was, already exhausted.

The three with him noticed it. Of course they did. It was Derek who reacted first. He moved forward just enough to reach up and gently run his hand over Spencer's hair. “Why don’t you rest, kid? We’ve got the hospital as protected as we can. For now, all of you are safe. We’re not gonna let anything get in here.”

“I can stay awake.” Spencer insisted. He tried very hard not to let out a yawn. Right now wasn’t the time for sleep. There were things to be done. “I can… I can look at files, read through them, try and help profile. I can give you my statement as well.”

Aaron fielded that one. He put on his best leader voice, the one that made sure those he was speaking to knew he meant business. It was firm yet carried a hint of gentleness to it. “That can wait, Reid. Right now you need to rest and recover. It’s the best thing you can do. We’ll come back later and speak with you.”

There were so many questions that Spencer had. He wanted to ask about the Bureau even though he was afraid of hearing the answer. He wanted to ask about what was going to happen now that it was known he was a mutant. He also wanted to know about the victims, the ones that were hurt and the ones that hadn’t made it. But his body was making it clear that it agreed with Aaron. Rest sounded wonderful. Still, he didn’t give in to it right away. He blinked eyes that felt a little heavier than before and fixed them on his boss. _Is he still my boss? Am I still going to have a job_? “Hotch, the Bureau…”

He didn’t even get a chance to try and voice his questions or concerns. Aaron cut him off before he could get going. “Leave them to us, Reid. There’s nothing you can do right now.” There was something in his eyes that made Spencer's stomach clench. He knew in that moment that it was just as bad as he feared. The Bureau wasn’t handling this well.

Spencer closed his eyes and pushed aside his own anguish. Instead, he focused on the other primary concern. “Can you have Garcia bring by files when she comes? I want to see everything you have. Reports, photos, victim lists… all of it.” He needed to see who was hurt and who they’d identified already. “An, Bri…” He cut off for a second, yawning heavily. “Brianna. I need to speak with Brianna.”

“She’ll be by to see you later.” Derek reassured him. “She said to tell you to rest and not worry. She’s got things handled. She hasn’t told anyone anything, either, so don’t worry about that.”

Well that seemed ridiculous. People were going to figure things out anyways. Spencer wasn’t stupid; he knew his life at the Bureau was as good as done. What reasons did he have to hide anymore? “Tell her not to worry.” Spencer murmured. Sleep was beginning to tug him under, making his voice heavier. “There’s no reason to hide anymore. I…” another yawn, “…I don’t have any reason to hide and I’m not ashamed.  She’s going to need my help with this. We’ve got a lot of paperwork to handle.” There was a lot that was going to need to be done and she’d never been the best with paperwork. That was why he did it. It was why he’d been there when all of this had gone down. The paperwork part of things was his area of expertise. The people were hers.

Sleep tugged Spencer down even more, the pain killers in his system helping to cushion things enough that he sort of felt like he was floating. The last thing he knew before he drifted off to sleep was the feel of a hand in his hair and Remy’s low voice, murmuring softly to him in that low and warm accent. “Rest, cher. Everyone’s safe fo’ now an Remy’s got y’r back here. Y’ just rest.”


	9. Chapter 9

The next time Spencer woke it was to find that his room had become a hub of activity some time while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even really get a chance to open his eyes before he heard voices talking loudly near him. Whose they were, he wasn’t quite sure, but he could hear someone arguing with someone else. Or more than one. He wasn’t quite sure. They were all twining together and overlapping in a way that made them hard to understand. Through it all, he heard once voice that was deeper than the others and seemed very familiar. It was firm and carried a hint of a growl to it as it told everyone “Why don’t you all shut up before you wake the pup up, huh? The last thing he needs is to wake up to your squabbling!”

Yeah, it was too late for that. Spencer blinked a few times and forced his eyes to open up and focus a little bit. What he saw sort of had him wishing he could go back to sleep.

The first person he recognized was Wolverine. Almost immediately after that he saw Remy right by the man’s side. The two of them were facing off against… were those cops? Spencer blinked a few more times as if that might somehow help him see a bit better. Those _were_ cops! And boy, did they look angry. What was going on here?

Someone else ended up asking that question for him. The door opened and Spencer watched as Penelope and Emily both came in, the two of them stopping when they saw the group there. Emily’s gaze swept over everyone in one quick, assessing sweep, and then she focused right on the cops. “What’s going on here?”

“We need to have a word with Dr. Reid.” One of the officers said. He was the older of the two, with grey hair and a wrinkled yet almost kind looking face. Green eyes were firm and steady on Emily and they didn’t hold any of that condescending look that some cops got when talking to a female agent.

His partner, on the other hand, wasn’t as nice. The man most definitely had that look in his blue eyes and his thin lips were twitching with what Spencer would bet was a sneer. He had blond, slicked back hair, and through the slight haze of medication still in his system he couldn’t help but think that the guy was the perfect image of that Malfoy character in the books Penelope had insisted he read.

Remy straightened up at the man’s words and shot a glare at both of them. “Y’ wanna speak with him, y’ can come back when he’s awake.”

“We need to get his statement.” The younger officer said, not even seeming to care about the temper the X-Men were displaying or the way that Emily had gone tense as well. “There are quite a few questions that need answered and… _Dr._ Reid is the only one that has those answers.”

The slight hesitation and the way he said Spencer's title made it clear what his opinion was here. _Oh joy. Naturally, I get the officer who either doesn’t like mutants, or who isn’t all that fond of Federal Agents. Maybe even both. That’s going to make this whole conversation go wonderfully_.

Before anyone else could have a chance to say anything, or a real fight could break out, Spencer braced one arm against the bed and used his good wing to help push a little and sit himself up just the slightest bit more. The stitches in his stomach protested loudly and were summarily ignored. Instead, he kept his focus on the group by the door as he called out “Can I help any of you?”

The sound of his voice had Remy shooting a quick glare at the officers even as he turned and quickly made his way over to Spencer's bedside. “Hey dere, cher. _Je suis désolé_. We was trying not to wake y’.” He must’ve been able to see that Spencer had moved, or was still trying to adjust a little, because he quickened his step and was already reaching out for Spencer before he even reached him. “Hey now! Y’ aint supposed to be moving around like dat yet.”

A look at the clock and a guess from the last time he’d been awake told him that he’d probably only managed to sleep through most of the night. It looked like it was about eight in the morning. Combine that with the two days that he’d been out of it before and that meant it was three days since the bombing, but also three days since his surgery. “After abdominal surgery such as this, so long as there are no signs of infection or any complications, doctors often try to get their patients sitting up as soon as possible. Often by now I would have been not only sitting, but encouraged to stand and potentially even walk.” Spencer told him. Still, he accepted Remy’s touch, letting the gentle and surprisingly professional touch which helped him settle a little more comfortably against the bed.

“Y’ might be right, _mais_ I doubt dey encourage y’ to do it without someone dere to help y’.” Remy fired back calmly.

Spencer smiled sheepishly up at the man. That was true and they both knew it. Luckily, Spencer was saved from having to say anything else by Penelope. The sound of her voice had Spencer turning his head and watching as she rushed past everyone and straight for his bed. “Oh, Reid! Look at you!”  Unlike Aaron and Derek, Penelope showed no hesitation whatsoever to come right up and reach out for him. Her hands were gentle when she put them on his shoulders and bent down to give him a half hug. He was enveloped in the floral-woodsy-kind of spicy scent that he always associated with her. It was the perfume she wore, which happened to be a gift that Spencer knew Derek had gotten her years ago and she’d fallen in love with. To him, it’d become a part of her scent, a part of her, and he drew in a breath of it before she pulled away.

Her hands immediately came up from his shoulders to brush his hair back and smooth lightly over his cheeks, not seeming to mind in the least bit the feathers that were there. If anything, her smile grew. “You look so much better now that you’re awake. We’ve been so worried about you!” Pulling on a mock glare, she tapped the tip of his nose firmly. “Don’t do that to us again, you hear me? I’m tired of always having to worry about my babies. One of these days I’m going to lock you all in a safe little bubble where none of you can get hurt anymore.”

It was a familiar threat. One that Spencer had heard plenty of times over the years—usually after her or someone else had been hurt doing something. “I wasn’t exactly looking for trouble, Garcia.”

“Hm.” She huffed at him. “You never do. Doesn’t seem to stop it from finding you now does it?” Her expression softened a little and she brushed her hand over his cheek again, this time touching his feathers on purpose. He couldn’t quite help the way he shifted into that touch or how it made his feathers relax and soften. He could actually feel it as the feathers in his hair, his crest, fanned up just the slightest bit into its normal, relaxed pose. None of that escaped Penelope’s notice. She smiled a little broader at all of it.

She didn’t get the chance to say whatever was building on her lips. The two officers apparently thought that Spencer being up meant they were free to come forward and try to have the conversation they obviously wanted to have. The younger one was the one to push forward the most, calling out “Excuse me, Agent…”

The sound of a growl filled the room and Spencer watched as the Wolverine stepped between them and Spencer's bed. He didn’t stop Emily from moving forward, but when the officers tried again all it took to stop them was the threat of a hand to stop them. No claws, just a hand, but the threat was clear. “We told you, he needs his rest.”

“Logan,” Remy called out casually, sounding not the least bit bothered by the tension in the room. “Remember, Cyke said we gotta try an play nice with de police, cher.” The way he said that made it sound like he wouldn’t be all that fussed if Logan forgot it.

Logan shrugged one shoulder, not looking away from the cops. “Aint brought my claws out.” Very clear was the silent _yet_ tacked on to the end of that.

There was every chance that this whole situation could blow up quite a bit if someone didn’t do something. Penelope was quiet, her hands down on the railing on Spencer's bed, her eyes darting back and forth between everyone. Remy didn’t look bothered at all; he stood to the side of Spencer's bed, up near the head, and was watching it all with a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips. Emily was surprisingly quiet as well. She hadn’t said anything or stepped in between the cops and Logan. She just stood at Penelope’s side and waited to see what was going to happen.

That meant it was going to be up to Spencer to stop this. He had to resist rolling his eyes. He was the one lying in the hospital bed, why did he have to be the responsible one here?

Spencer drew in a deep breath and made sure that his voice was steady as he called out Logan’s name. “Logan.” He waited until the feral turned to look at him. “The officers are just doing their job. All they need to do is ask me questions. You can’t fault them for that.” Spencer turned his head to look to Emily next. “As happy as I am to see you, would you two mind coming back in a little while? I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to give my statement, but I’d love to see you afterwards.”

The smile she gave him was warm and full of an affection that he was so glad to see hadn’t changed because of all this. “Of course, Reid.” She pulled on the strap of the bag he hadn’t realized she was wearing and she brought it up and over her head. Then she lifted the bag and set it by his right hip, making it easily accessible to his left hand which was the one with more of his fingers exposed. “Here, it’s the stuff you asked for.”

He gave her a small nod to show he understood what she wasn’t saying. No need to let the officers here know that his team was giving him files on a case he was most likely not even allowed to be working.

His coworkers understood the need to leave and they trusted Spencer to be able to handle this. The fact that they were willingly leaving also told him that these two officers hadn’t showed up on their radar as anything troublesome. Spencer had no doubts that Penelope had vetted anyone who might even _think_ about coming into the hospital right now. That was just the type of person she was. However, that wasn’t something that the X-Men would know. The two in his room looked like they weren’t happy with the idea of leaving him alone in there. “I’ll be fine.” Spencer reassured Remy softly. “Don’t worry.” He wasn’t sure _why_ Remy was acting so protective of him—they hadn’t met until these two came and found Spencer and his little group of survivors. However, he couldn’t deny the warm feeling it gave him. Who wouldn’t like having a gorgeous, kind, funny man not only show interest in them, but stand by their side and try to protect them when it was hard for them to protect themselves?

Remy looked at him in an assessing way. Then he nodded. “All right, Spencer. I’ll go grab a smoke, maybe get us a bite to eat, yeah? Y’r probably hungry by now.”

“That sounds wonderful, Remy. Thank you.”

“ _Pas de quoi._ ” To Spencer's pleasure and embarrassment, the Cajun leaned forward and kissed his forehead right over top his feathers. Then he flashed Spencer a grin and a wink over the top of his sunglasses. On his way out of the room, he collected his friend, pausing only briefly to give the two officers a warning glare.

A moment later Spencer and the two officers were the only ones left in the room. Spencer lifted his chin and let pride straighten him up. He wasn’t going to cow on the bed before anyone, no matter what they were here to say or do. “Gentlemen, I believe you had some questions?”

* * *

Their questioning only took about a half an hour. It probably could’ve gone on longer, but the senior officer, Detective Nelson, ended it before his partner, Detective Plotter, could continue it on. “This should be enough for us to go on right now, Doctor.” Nelson said politely. He closed up the little book he’d been taking notes with and gestured for Plotter to gather up the tape recorder that he’d been using. “If we have any more questions, we’ll get a hold of you. And if you have any questions or concerns, please, don’t hesitate to call us.”

Spencer took the card being offered to him. He actually managed to smile up at the man. “Thank you, Detective.”

“Of course. I hope you get well soon, Doctor.”

With no more than that, the two left the room and Spencer was blissfully alone. He reveled in the silence for a few minutes. Simply lying back in his bed, he let the silence envelope him, let it sink in and calm the parts of him that still felt far too edgy. No matter how much he kept pushing things away or pushing them down they didn’t actually go away. All the fears he was trying not to think about were still there. His fears about his job, about his life, about what was going to happen now, about whether or not the FOH was going to try again. And none of that even began to touch on the fear that still sat in the pit of his stomach and around his heart from the bombing itself—the terror that had gripped him with the first sign of trouble, from the instant Zep came in and told him trouble was coming, and that hadn’t quite let go of him completely yet.

Maybe that had something to do with the knowledge that this wasn’t done. It couldn’t be done. The FOH wasn’t going to just let this lie.

Sitting here worrying about it wouldn’t do him any good, though. Spencer carefully caught hold of the little table beside his hospital bed, the one that would roll over and rest in front of him so that he’d be able to eat whatever food they brought him, and he tugged it until it was in place over his lap. It wasn’t an ideal set up—the sling holding him up and off his wings wasn’t high enough to let him sit up straight and look at things—but it gave him enough of a spot to work with that he was able to get files out of the bag and start to spread them out in front of him. A benefit of his reading speed was that it took him almost no time at all to get through the files.

What he saw in there made him sick. Tears burned his eyes and he could taste bile in his throat. The amount of damage listed in these reports was horrifying. The reports from the crime scene units that had come in afterwards as well as from the bomb squad and other departments, they laid everything out in startling detail. Spencer had every single fact about the bombing itself right there in front of him.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch the other stack of files yet. Those weren’t building facts… those were about the people. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to read that. He didn’t know if he wanted to know the names of those that they’d lost, the ones who were hurt, or the bodies of ones they had yet to be able to identify.

The need to _move_ pushed inside of Spencer. His body wanted to be up, to be moving, the same way it always did when he was thinking hard enough. He wanted to pace around the room and hopefully burn off some of this energy inside of him. Safely channel out his emotions into some sort of activity. His mind was too full of information. The facts in the files, the pictures of the building afterwards, those were mixing and blending with his own memories; memories that he’d just had to relieve for the two detectives. It was just, it was too much. It was too damn much.

Spencer shoved the small table away from him hard enough that it rolled into the nearby chair. He didn’t care. Right then he just wanted those words, those images, _gone_. He wanted them gone and he wanted to get up out of this damn bed. There was no time to just be lying here. Who knew when FOH would come back and try to finish the job? He couldn’t be lying here waiting for them.

Grabbing hold of anything and pulling himself up wasn’t really going to be an option. Not with his hands covered and his arms injured. He didn’t really want to risk doing any more damage that might keep him trapped here. Fortunately, he had one other option available to him, and it proved to be only minimally painful. Whatever he’d done to his good wing, it wasn’t that bad. Bruising, maybe. It still had enough strength in it to work perfectly to brace between his back and the bed and then _push_ , slowly raising his upper half. Spencer ignored the way that it made his whole back ache and throb, or how it made his stomach burn a little. _Apparently my back is a lot more bruised than I realized_ , he thought to himself.

It took a few minutes before Spencer had himself upright. Once there, he took a few minutes to simply breathe and try to get himself back under control. Then came the next step.

The railing on the bed was already down in an effort to give his wings space to rest. They were rather large and long, especially when drawn in like this. If he were standing with them resting against his back, they’d brush the ground if he wasn’t careful. That didn’t really help him at the moment. It just made it even more difficult, more appendages to work with, as he slid first his right leg off the side of the bed and then, slowly and painfully, his left. At the same time, he had to twist the rest of him so that his wings could go out behind him and trail down off the other side of the bed.

Pain flared to life—well, pretty much everywhere. His leg was burning where the stitches were being tugged, his stomach was a steady ache that told him he might’ve been moving just a _bit_ too fast, his back was a throb of bruises that felt deep and heavy, and his right wing was burning and tingling both. Yet, with it all came a sort of sense of relief. Lying on his wings for so long wasn’t perfectly comfortable. They, just like any other body part, could end up feeling like they’d fallen asleep if he stayed on top of them too long.  Being off of them were now tingling, yes, but even that felt better than it had.

Spencer wanted nothing more than to stretch both his wings out and pull on some of the stiff, sore muscles, shuffle some of his feathers into a more comfortable position. To _preen_. God, there was so much dirt and such in them that he could feel! Now that some of the feeling was returning to them, he was becoming acutely aware of the way they itched.

With one casted hand braced on the bed, Spencer stared down at the ground and contemplated whether he should really try and stretch out his good wing or maybe even try and get up, only to hear the jiggle of the door handle. He looked up in just enough time to see Remy shouldering the door open, a tray held in his hands. The Cajun was talking as he moved, eyes on the tray to make sure that everything on it stayed balanced. “Wasn’t exactly sure what y’ wanted, me. So we got a little bit of everyt’ing here...what de hell do y’ t’ink y’r doin’?”

The last part was flung out the minute that Remy lifted his head and saw Spencer. Never before had Spencer seen someone move so quickly or so fluidly. The tray was deposited down onto a chair and Remy was right up there by Spencer’s side in a flash. His hands came out as if to help balance Spencer or to keep him from falling or something of the like. “Cher, y’ should know better’n to be tryin’ and getting up on y’r own!”

“I told you…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Remy waved a hand between them. “Y’ should be getting up, blah, blah, blah. I heard y’. Dat don’t mean y’ should be over here doin’ it on y’r own now does it?”

As much as Spencer appreciated the concern that backed Remy’s words, for a long time now the young genius had dealt with things on his own and at his own pace. He’d taken care of himself without much input from anyone else. It was all he knew. Having someone come in and just take over wasn’t something that he was comfortable with or that he even knew how to handle all that well. Because of that, his voice was just a little more stiff than normal when he said “I’m fine, Remy.”

The Cajun drew back a little though he didn’t remove his hand from where it had settled at Spencer’s elbow. Sunglasses were pushed up to the top of his head with his free hand. Then Remy stood there and stared at Spencer’s face a moment before he gave a small nod. “ _D’accord_. Got it.”

The way he said that didn’t seem quite right. Spencer furrowed his brows and tilted his head just a bit, as if the new angle would somehow better help him understand what was going on. “I’m sorry?”

To his surprise, a bright grin flashed over Remy’s face. It lit up his features and made him look impishly gorgeous. “Know I can be a bit pushy, me. It’s good to know de line fo’ people. I found y’rs.”

For some reason that simple statement made Spencer feel just a bit guilty. Remy had only been trying to help him, after all. “I don’t… I mean, it’s not--it’s not you. Not really. You’re not being pushy. I just,” Pausing, Spencer shuffled a little, his wings twitching behind him, and he tried to bring a hand up to brush a bit of hair back from his face until he remembered his casts. He had to settle for folding his hands in his lap and dropping his gaze down and away so he wouldn’t have to look at Remy as he spoke. “I’ve been independent for a very long time now. I’m not very good at allowing others to help me.” Even if sometimes he really did want to.

The grin never faded from Remy’s face, though it relaxed into something a little softer at the edges. He lifted his hand off Spencer’s shoulder and brushed back the bit of hair that Spencer had been trying to reach for before. He tucked it behind Spencer’s ear. “I get dat feeling. Aint all dat fond of help, me. _Mais_ , right now y’r hurt, cher. Whether y’ like it or not, y’r gonna have to let others take care of y’ a bit. How about, y’ agree to try, an I’ll agree to not push it so hard, _oui_?”

It was a nice little compromise. How hard could it be to try? That wasn’t promising that it would work. Just that he would make an effort. Biting on his bottom lip, he looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

“ _Bon_.” Remy’s grin was back full force. He patted a hand against Spencer’s shoulder before drawing back a step. “Now, y’ feel up to sitting up dere and eating, or y’ wanna try and relax back again and enjoy y’r dinner? I brought plenty of t’ings fo’ y’. Wasn’t sure what y’ wanted.”

“Sitting up.” Definitely. He wasn’t sure he wanted to try moving yet, either up or down, and he definitely didn’t want to lie back down. Not after all the hard work he’d put into getting up.

The little table that Spencer had shoved away before was brought back over, without a word being said about the way it was against the wall or the mess of files on it, and then all the files were gathered up and set aside. Remy brought the empty rolling table right up to the front of Spencer and set it up so that Spencer could actually rest his arms on it and balance a little of his weight there. It eased some of the ache he was feeling. When Remy brought a few of the items off the tray over and Spencer tried to straighten up again to make room, the Cajun stopped him with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it, Spencer. Dere’s enough room fo’ de food to be set out in front of y’.”

Part of Spencer wanted to insist that he could sit up just fine. He was smart enough to recognize that that was just his pride speaking, though. Giving in to that after promising to at least try to accept help seemed like something that Derek would refer to as a ‘dick move’, so Spencer just kept his mouth shut and let Remy set out a few bowls around him. There was jello and oatmeal as well as what looked like pudding. All soft things that would go down easily and wouldn’t cause any stomach troubles.

Once he had it all set up, Remy grabbed a bowl of his own pudding and then proceeded to hitch himself up right next to Spencer on the bed. He settled in and flashed Spencer a smile. He didn’t even seem the least bit bothered by the wing that was loosely draped over the other side of the bed and slightly curled around the bottom of the bed.

When he was settled in and comfortable with his bowl of pudding, the Cajun looked up at Spencer and gave that smile that never seemed to fail to make Spencer smile back. Then he lifted his spoon and pointed it right at Spencer, waggling it at him. “Now, don’t t’ink dis crappy meal here gets y’ out of takin’ Remy out nice and proper. Y’ promised him a real meal, in a nice place.” He pulled his spoon back and swirled it around to indicate the room around them. “Dis don’t count.”

Blush warmed Spencer's cheeks. So far neither of them had mentioned that conversation. Yet Remy was looking at him now, smiling, with just a hint of something in his eyes. A little glimpse of fears that told Spencer the man was waiting to see what his reaction was going to be here. He was waiting to see if Spencer was going to try and back out of this, maybe plead his injuries for a lack of memory or something of the like. He had a feeling that Remy would let him, too. That right there was enough to make Spencer's decision for him on how to react. It gave him a bit of strength and boldness; enough to meet Remy’s eyes and calmly tell him “Of course not. I prefer my dates to involve less injuries.” He smiled, unable to help it as he watched Remy’s eyes warm. “I keep my promises, Remy.”

The smile Remy wore now was big enough to crinkle his eyes and somehow made his face all the more handsome. “Remy’s gonna hold y’ to dat.”

“I look forward to it.”

Remy was still grinning as he spooned up a bite of his pudding and slipped it into his mouth. He looked immensely pleased with himself and Spencer couldn’t help but shake his head. What on earth had he gotten himself into here? He wasn’t exactly sure—but he was sure that it was going to be fun.


	10. Chapter 10

On silent feet Remy slipped out of Spencer's hospital room and carefully shut the door behind him. He didn’t want to disturb the sleeping man lying in there. Sitting up to eat his meal had taken a whole lot more of Spencer's energy than the young genius had probably expected. By the time they’d gotten through about half of the soft foods on Spencer's tray, exhaustion had been clear around those uniquely beautiful eyes. It was a testament to how tired Spencer had really been when he didn’t even bother arguing as Remy got him laid back down to rest.

Seeing the man wince as they settled him back into the harness had only served to remind Remy that they needed to find something better for Spencer. Something more comfortable. Obviously this harness wasn’t quite doing it. His body just wasn’t built for any of this.

Remy put the thought to the back of his mind for the moment. Turning away from the door, he looked up to the two guards that were stationed outside Spencer's door. No one had told Spencer yet that he had his own personal guard. Within hours of Stark’s security team arriving, a two man team had been set up outside Spencer's door on Stark’s personal orders and it had been maintained ever since. They switched out occasionally, but at no point in time was Spencer's door left unguarded. Remy appreciated the gesture. It was one of the things that made him comfortable leaving Spencer alone in here. There was a big part of Remy that just wanted to stay in here with him and watch over him, make sure he was taken care of and _safe_. That part of him had to be pushed back, though. There were other things that needed to be done.

“He’s sleepin’.” Remy told the two guards. “Make sure no one disturbs him unless dey got to. De cops can wait to speak with him till he’s awake.”

Both guards nodded at his words. Satisfied that Spencer would be left alone, Remy set off to find the rest of his team. It didn’t take him very long.

They were gathered once more in the private waiting room that had been turned into their sort of command center. As was becoming common, some of the BAU members were in here with them. Penelope was sitting at the little table with two laptops in front of her, each one working on something, and Derek was standing behind her chair with one hand on the back and the other on the table, bent low to look at what she was doing. Emily was over on the other side of the room talking with Scott and Hank. Everyone seemed to be working intently on things. There was a lot that needed to be done. The threat of the FOH wasn’t the only threat they were up against. Every mutant hating group in and around DC, and some from further away, seemed to have come out of the woodwork. They’d had plenty of threats here at the hospital already and it likely wasn’t going to get any better.

“We just can’t move them yet.” Hank was saying as Remy came in. He grimaced and spread his hands out on either side of him. “The risk is just too great.”

Scott’s face went a little tighter and Remy swore he could feel the man’s headache building. “If this continues, we might not have a choice Hank. The threats are only getting worse. I don’t give it long before it escalates into something worse.”

From his spot by the computers Derek straightened himself up. He looked just as upset by the conversation as the rest of them. “The groups are all feeding off one another. They’re gaining courage from the others. Scott’s right… we won’t have long before it’s going to push them into actually doing something. When they do, it’s not going to be pretty.”

“We’ve gotten out all de ones dat can be moved.” Remy said. He strolled across the room to the window, leaning himself there so that he could both watch the room and the scene outside. There were still countless reporters and protestors out there. It was a madhouse.

The sound of Remy’s voice had drawn the attention of the room. Seeing him, the profilers perked up almost instantly. “How’s Reid?” Emily asked him, just barely beating the other two to asking the same exact question. The concern and affection had Remy smiling at them despite the crappiness of the whole situation. “He’s all right, cher. Sleepin’ right now.” Remy reassured them. “He sat up fo’ a bit, stretched out some of dem muscles, an it made him a bit more tired dan he was expectin’.” Not to mention Remy had seen the files when he’d moved Spencer's little table. Talking with the police and then looking over those files had to have been hard for him. His exhaustion was most likely just as mental as it was physical.

“He’s healing.” Hank said, looking around at them all. “But it is going to be a journey. I haven’t been able to speak with him about his medical history at length yet or even attempt to determine how extensive his healing factor is, so I can’t give an accurate projection of how long it’ll take before he’s capable of being moved. What I do know is that he cannot be moved right now.”

“Healing factor?” Emily asked.

Scott lifted an eyebrow at her. “You think he can extend and retract giant wings and change around other features without some kind of healing factor?”

It was hard for Remy not to snicker at the slightly embarrassed looks the agents wore. Obviously they hadn’t thought about that.

“What’s going on dat has y’ wanting to move him sooner?” Remy asked Scott. Last he knew, there were threats and trouble but nothing that they hadn’t already debated about and tried to plan for. Something about this had the feeling of urgency, like it was something new, something important.

Sometimes Remy really hated being right. He stood in front of the computer that Penelope had turned his way and watched as the news covered a rally that happened downtown. A rally against mutants. “The FOH is trying to _help us_.” said the man standing at the podium, looking out to the crowd. He was a middle aged man with dark hair and a look of a zealot in his green eyes. “Were their methods extreme? Yes. Absolutely yes! But their intentions were good. They seek to help us wipe away the stain of mutants from our planet. Too long now we’ve stood on the sidelines, trusting our government to care for us, to _protect_ us. Like sheep we’ve been led to follow this belief. But the FOH has taken those lies and exposed them to the light!” The man lifted his hand and gestured to the sky, getting a call of cheers in return. “The government isn’t _protecting_ us! All this time they’ve been _lying_ to us. Sheltering one of these abominations in their midst. How many others are out there? How many more are hiding in government jobs, ready to swoop in and try and take this country over before we even know what’s going on? Make no mistake, people, we are at war! We need to prepare ourselves. We need to _defend_ ourselves! These mutants come with their own weapons. Let us show them we’re not weak.”

“ _Dieu_.” Remy breathed out. This was bad. This was really bad. Whoever this was, he was stirring the crowd up into a frenzy and, worst of all, they were _listening_ to him. They were listening to him like he preached the gospel on that stage. “Do we know who dis _connard_ is?”

Penelope nodded at him. “Gareth Zucker. The Bureau tried to send some units to pick him up but he seems to have gone underground. I’ve got everything I can set up to try and find any trace of him that pops up.”

“I’ll put out word on de streets.” Remy said absently. His focus was back on the laptop. The conversation had shifted again. He tuned back in quickly when he heard Spencer's name.

“Instead of being behind bars where he belongs, he’s lying in a cushy hospital be surrounded by guards. _Protected_. Why isn’t he in custody? Why isn’t he being questioned? It’s because the government doesn’t want anyone to know just how many mutants they actually have! They don’t want their precious secrets spilled. Well, I say we deserve some answers! If they won’t give them to us, we need to go and get them ourselves!”

Damn it all to hell! This just got worse and worse. Remy understood now why Scott was talking about trying to move Spencer. Even with all the guards they had, he wasn’t safe here. There were just too many places a person could get in. Hospitals weren’t meant to be perfectly secure. Between the X-Men, the FBI, and the Stark security, they were trying to do as much as they could, cover as many entrances and exits as they could, but no one was perfect. There was always a chance someone—a professional—could slip in somewhere. Or this group could turn into a mob and rush the hospital. If they organized it a little and split their forces they might be able to overwhelm them just enough to break in somewhere.

Remy’s mind spun with all the possibilities. He turned around and looked at Scott, his look echoing his next words. “Dis is bad, Cyke.” One hand lifted and ran through his hair.  There were other ideas pushing through his head, other things that were so much worse than just a mob. Mobs could be somewhat controlled so long as they kept Jean close, or Ororo. Jean’s TK could keep some people back and Ororo’s winds could blow back others. They could do their best to keep the people back and not hurt them. It wasn’t them that Remy was truly worried about. No, he was worried about something much worse. “Dis is gonna bring out more dan just de crazies. Some of de diehards are gonna come out too an dey’re gonna use de distraction de crazies provide dem to do somet’ing a whole lot smarter.

Furrowing his brow, Derek tilted his head and watched Remy carefully. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s what I’d do.” Remy answered him simply. He shrugged his shoulders at the surprised look that got him. If they hadn’t realized yet that not all X-Men were good, or had come from good backgrounds, they’d figure it out soon enough. Remy ignored the agent and kept his focus on Scott, who was watching him intently. “If dis were me, I wouldn’t bother with de crowds or de mobs or anyt’ing like dat. I’d play a longer game. Maybe grab one of de staff, persuade dem to work fo’ me. Money, threats, whatever it took. Den y’ got a person on de inside. Once y’ got dat, it’s easy to get in at any time, an it’s even easier to get in and do what y’ need if y’ got a mob outside causing trouble.”

“What do you suggest?” Scott asked.

If the others saw anything odd in the leader asking one of his subordinates what they should do, they said nothing on it.

A deck of cards appeared in Remy’s hands. He absently started to shuffle at them, the gesture familiar and soothing. It wasn’t just something he did when nervous but also something he did to help himself think. “Keep Phoenix and Storm close to help with de people dat might show. Dey got powers dat won’t hurt de civilians as badly if dey get pushy. I’d keep extra guards on Spencer, too, an any of de other survivors we got in de hospital. Make sure dey’re not alone at any time. Minimize de staff dat have access to dem, too. De less dat can get in dere, de less chance of it being de wrong person.”

Scott nodded his agreement. “I’ll speak with the Stark team an set up a rotation for his doors and then I want to speak with our team and get a rotation between our remaining patients. I agree—at no point in time should any of them be alone. These people aren’t going to stop. Until they’re safe to be moved, we need to take care of them.”

“In the meantime, I will do everything possible to ensure that our young friend has as speedy a recovery as possible.” Hank added in.

It wasn’t much. There were still so many risks and so many things that could go wrong. Remy turned to look back at the screen where Penelope had paused the video. The man on the screen was frozen with one fist up in the air and an look of fanatical rage on his face. It made Remy shiver. They might not be able to do much, but they’d do anything they could to keep that bastard and anyone else like him far away from the survivors, and far away from Spencer.

* * *

When all of it was explained to Spencer later, the young genius insisted on watching the video. No one was all that surprised by the demand. Though Hank tried to protest, and Remy suggested that maybe he watch it later, Spencer's friends knew better than to deny him. Hank, Remy, and Derek helped to get Spencer sitting up at the edge of the bed once more, his wings relaxed as best as they could be behind him, and Penelope played the video for him.

By the time it was done Spencer was tense and his wings kept trying to twitch behind him in agitation.  There was no way he could argue their extra security measures. Like Remy, and like his friends, Spencer saw the threat in that speech and all the trouble that could come from it. “This is turning into a giant mess.” Spencer sighed, wishing he had a free hand to rub over his face. “We need to evacuate those left in the hospital as quickly as possible. Our presence is creating a danger and preventing the hospital from being able to treat anyone else for fear of putting them at risk.” Not to mention who might try to slip in as a patient so that they’d have easier access to them.

“You can’t move yet, Reid.” Derek argued.

Hank stepped in before Spencer could argue back. “Your friend is right, Dr. Reid. We cannot move you yet. A few more days and I believe your body could handle a transfer, but you’d still need somewhere safe to rest and recuperate, and your friends assure us you won’t agree to be taken somewhere secure by our teams.”

“Absolutely not.” There was no way that Spencer was going to let the X-Men secret him away somewhere and hide him while all of this was going on. This was a giant mess and one that wouldn’t get cleaned up by hiding him. If anything, it’d get worse. People would get into a frenzy if they found out the mutant FBI agent had gone missing. Even if it was bandied out that he was in protective custody. “I may be out of commission at the moment physically, Dr. McCoy, but that doesn’t mean that all of me is out. My mind still works perfectly fine. It’s always been my best weapon anyways. I’m going to stay here where I can provide some sort of assistance.”

“Rossi and I found a safe house for you.” Derek said suddenly, bringing the attention of the rom towards him. He didn’t blink at it. He just watched Spencer, his words clearly for him. “As soon as Dr. McCoy clears you, we’ll get you and any of the others that want to come and we’ll take you there. It’s still close enough that you’ll be able to help, you’ll just have to stick with mostly webcam conversations. We can set up a team there to guard you and keep you guys safe, and it’ll get you out of the hospital. In fact,” Here he turned to look at Hank, who straightened up in response. “We were wondering if you might be able to help us set up a room there for them to make sure they’ll be as comfortable as possible. It won’t be the same as a hospital but it’ll be close.”

That seemed to perk Hank up. His shoulders went back and his chin went up. Lifting one hand, he stroked the hair on his chin, obviously deep in thought. “That could work. If we can secure safe and discreet transport, I could make sure that the rooms they’re going to would be as close to a hospital room as possible. It would definitely allow us to move them sooner.”

It sounded like they had the start of the plan. Spencer was content to sit quietly for a moment and let them work their way through it. He was aching enough that he didn’t really want to talk too much. More than that, though, his wings were driving him absolutely crazy. They were itching more and more each time he woke up and it was taking everything he had not to uncurl them both and bring them around so that he could preen them. It wasn’t just the injuries that held him back. It was a bit of embarrassment, too. He didn’t want to sit and groom himself while the others watched on. Spencer had a hard enough time accepting that he was in his bird-form and no one seemed bothered by it. He didn’t want to push it.

He should’ve figured that his discomfort wouldn’t go unnoticed. He just didn’t expect for the reasoning to be so easily understood.

Remy had been watching him as Hank and Derek talked. Because of that, he saw the way that Spencer's wings kept twitching, how it seemed that they kept trying to curl forward. He leaned in close so as not to bother the people still talking and furrowed his brow, looking at Spencer closely. “Is dere somet’ing bugging y’ with y’r wings, cher?”

The question surprised Spencer. He knew his face reflected it, too, eyebrows raising up. “What?”

“Y’ keep shifting em like dere’s somet’ing wrong.”

Oh. Oh, well. Spencer felt his cheeks heat a little and he was grateful that the feathers on his face generally kept that somewhat hidden. “No, no. I’m fine.”

The Cajun tilted his head and Spencer got the feeling that he was being studied. Was this what people felt like when they were being profiled by one of the team? He sort of felt like he was under a microscope. One that was leaving no secret hidden. “Y’ sure?” Remy asked.

“Absolutely.” At the skeptical look it got him, Spencer tried to smother his grimace. He worked so as not to start shifting around underneath Remy’s stare. Uncomfortable, he found himself giving up just a little bit in the hopes it would satisfy the man. “I just, I itch a little, that’s all.”

He should’ve known that the subject wouldn’t be dropped. In fact, his words seemed to have caught the attention of the other three, bringing all eyes in the room towards Spencer. On Hanks’ face there was something that told Spencer that the man understood far more than he wanted him to. He proved it just a second later. “I didn’t even think of it.” Hank said slowly. “And I very much should have when I noticed the glands at the base of your wings. Granted, it’s in a different location than on most avians, but I imagine it still serves the same purpose.”

“What’re y’ talkin’ about, Henri?” Remy asked. He looked confused. So did Derek and Penelope.

Hank didn’t even look at Remy. He folded his hands in front of himself and turned to better face Spencer, understanding on his face. “My apologies, Dr. Reid. I didn’t stop to think about the full extent of your unique physiology. With as well as you’re doing sitting up, we should be able to undo enough bandages for you to bring a wing around so that you can reach your feathers.”

The offer was appreciated; far more than Hank probably realized. But it also wasn’t that simple. To preen the way he wanted to, _needed_ to, Spencer would require a lot more skill than he had at the moment. Carefully he held up his casted hands in a reminder of that. “I’m not exactly equipped at the moment, Dr. McCoy. But thank you. I appreciate the offer.”

“Would one of us perhaps be able to offer some kind of assistance?”

That question had heat spreading over Spencer's cheeks and even down towards his neck. The idea of someone actually _preening_ him wasn’t something that he’d ever entertained before. He’d never been incapable of reaching back to access the glands by his wings for the oil he’d need. Nor had he ever broken a wing and been unable to move it. Preening had always been something he’d done in private. Spencer had to fight back the urge to immediately insist that he didn’t need any sort of help. Much as he didn’t want it, and as much as it embarrassed him, if he was going to be in the hospital for a while and stuck with his wings out and his hands casted, he was going to need help with this. There’d been very few times in Spencer's life where he’d been able to keep his wings out on a consistent basis. In those few times, he’d found that preening was something he needed to do daily just to keep all his feathers in good shape. Sometimes, if it’d been too long since he’d last let his wings out, he had to do it rather soon after he let them free. They’d come out a little rumpled and the other feathers as well as his crest would be a bit messed up.

Preening was even more important at the moment because his wings hadn’t just been out. They’d been out in the middle of an explosion. Spencer shuddered to think what was in them. Dirt, dust, blood. He imagined that Hank and the others might’ve tried to help clean them up at least somewhat before. But Spencer could _feel_ the little particles of things between the feathers and it was making him itchy and twitchy.

Accepting help for this wasn’t exactly easy. Spencer dropped his eyes down and away, not quite able to bring himself to look at either one of them for this. “I, uh… yes. Yes, please.”

Remy’s fingers gently clasped Spencer's where they stuck out from the cast. That touch was enough to have Spencer's eyes flicking up towards Remy’s face. He didn’t find any sort of judgment there. Just an open sort of honesty that was kind of stunning. “What is it y’ need help with, _mon ami_?”

“Preening.” Spencer blurted out, his cheeks heating even more. There was no real point in hiding this. Not when they’d basically just had the whole conversation right in front of everyone anyways. But he kept his eyes on Remy and tried not to look at his friends. He hoped that Remy, being a mutant and one who worked with people like Hank, might not be as weirded out by this. “I usually have to do it daily when I keep my wings out, just to keep them clean and in order. The explosion left them rather dirty and messy in a way that’s… itchy.”

“All right. What do y’ need me to do?”

That had Spencer's head finally snapping up. There’d been no hesitation in Remy’s offer, no sign of discomfort or anything else that suggested he might find this weird or strange. He was just calmly sitting there smiling at Spencer and waiting for him to answer. Spencer snuck a look over at Hank, who had turned his head to look at a machine yet was smiling, and then he looked back at Remy. “You don’t… you don’t have to do this, Remy. You barely even know me.”

“Pfft!” Remy dismissively waved his hand in the air. “We know each other well enough fo’ Remy to help out a little here, cher. Besides, gotta help y’ out so y’ can get better, _oui_? Got a date to collect on.”

This time Spencer's blush was a bit deeper and it had Remy chuckling. He reached up and flicked at Spencer's forehead, chuckling again when Spencer jerked back from it and shot a glare up at him. “Dere we go. Much better. Now, why don’t y’ tell me what it is we need to do an I’ll get to helpin’ before y’ get any twitchier.”

“We can help you, Reid.” Penelope offered, interrupting the moment between the two. She’d stepped forward to stand at Derek’s side and her eyes had drifted to his bandaged wings. They came back to his face and she smiled. “I don’t mind.”

He could tell that she meant it. She didn’t mind. But… he couldn’t explain it to them, he just, he didn’t know if he wanted that. The idea of them seeing him that way, so open and exposed, and having to not just see the strange parts of him but actually touch them, it made him nervous. It made him nervous for Remy to do it as well, just not as bad.

Derek answered before Spencer could think of anything to say. “We have work to do, Garcia. I get the feeling this might take a while and we’d probably have to leave before it was half done.” The way he looked at Spencer, the understanding in his eyes, said he’d caught on to a bit more than Spencer had expected.

That seemed to decide that. Remy, bless him, was all business as he sat down and had Spencer walk him through what needed to be done. Penelope and Derek slipped out as Spencer started his explanation, his friend giving him a wink from the door that told Spencer he was going to hear some teasing later. The little shit.

Explaining what needed to be done wasn’t really that simple. Nor was it something Spencer was entirely sure how to do. Some of what he did was something that he didn’t really have words for. There was no way to explain to Remy how to settle a feather perfectly into place. Some of that was done simply by feel. “Preening is a process in which birds generally groom and care for their feathers. When a bird preens, they use their beak to pick through the feathers, removing any debris and arranging any feathers that are out of place. You probably won’t be able to settle them perfectly.” Spencer explained. “Just, smooth the feather down into place as best as you can. I’ll warn you if it feels wrong. Mostly I just, I need the oil on there and I need them clean. I can feel little things in there that are driving me crazy. And not all of the feathers feel like they’re in the best condition.”

When it came to explaining the oil, that was when Spencer's embarrassment grew the most. He tried to keep his tone as clinical as possible to make it a little easier. It didn’t help much. “When birds preen, they generally distribute a special oil that’s secreted from a gland found at the base of their tail. The oil helps a bird’s feathers stay healthy and shiny and offers a protective coat that helps to ensure that they can fly, stay dry, and even stay warm in colder weather. For whatever reasons, I possess the same type of gland, only instead of having them at a tail I don’t even possess, mine sits at the base of my wings, and instead of one I have two. One on each side. You just need to… to stimulate the gland to produce the oil and then use that to groom through the feathers once they’ve been cleaned. Simple water should work to help with that part.”

There was a moment of quiet as Remy processed his words. When Spencer dared to look at the Cajun’s face, he found that Remy was smirking at him. _Smirking_. “I’m workin’ hard on not saying all de dirty jokes dat are popping into m’ head, cher, _mais_ y’r not makin’ it easy.”

Spencer blushed. “Remy!”

The sound of not just Remy’s laughter, but Hank’s as well, echoed around the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Getting him set up for this proved to be a bit more of a task than Spencer had anticipated. First things first, they had to figure out the best way to move him so that not only his wings could be reached, but the glands on them. Then they had to find a way for him to stretch his wing out enough for Remy to access them without damaging the injured bits. Remy was the one to finally come up with a suggestion that they all thought might work. “We need a bigger space dan dis room.” The Cajun told them. “Henri, y’ t’ink dey got an OR or somet’ing dat might be big enough to let him stretch on out? Gotta have at least, what? Ten, fifteen feet fo’ space?” Remy eyed his wings speculatively. “Y’r wings are bigger dan Ange’s, dat’s f’sure. “ Then he grinned and flashed Spencer a wink. “Prettier, too.”

The way the compliment had his feathers ruffling only served to further Spencer's embarrassment.

Twenty minutes after the suggestion had been made, Spencer found himself lying once more on his bed as the Remy and Hank wheeled Spencer down towards the largest of their operating rooms. It wouldn’t be enough space for him to stretch out both wings at once—not that he could, with the one broken—but he’d be able to stretch out his good one and Remy would have room to work. Their security detail followed them. Two from the Stark team and then Logan as well.

The ride down there wasn’t the most comfortable of experiences. Spencer had to fight back a groan as his body was jostled around. The sling he was in made for a strange, swaying sort of side, and that brought home for Spencer that he had barely any food in his stomach to help soak up the pain meds, which was always a recipe for nausea for him. All he could do was close his eyes and pray that he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself by throwing up all over the place. That was the last thing he needed to do. He was already looking pathetic enough as it was.

Still, once they arrived in the operating room, Spencer took a moment after the bed was parked so that he could just sit there and gather his composure once again.

When he finally opened his eyes again his stomach had stopped churning and the room felt like it had finally stopped swaying. He looked up and found that Logan was watching him carefully as if not quite sure whether or not he should come close or back away. Spencer's lips twitched a little. “I’m not going to throw up on you, Logan.”

“Appreciate it.” Logan shot back, just a bit dry. Then he flashed a smile at Spencer that had the young genius smiling in return.

Careful hands helped Spencer get himself sitting up and then a tray was brought over, covered with a pillow and some blankets, and it was set and locked into place right in front of Spencer. It was probably a surgical tray most of the time, or maybe a dinner tray. At the moment it was a perfect sized place for Spencer to lean forward and fold his arms down over top of it, even rest his weight there some. That took the pressure off of his stomach and ribs, even off his back, and let him relax just the slightest bit more.

He heard both Remy and Hank move around behind him. To his surprise, Logan stayed in front of him, settling in like he wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask about it. A familiar hand settled against his shoulder. By now, Spencer had grown comfortable enough with Hank’s touch that he didn’t flinch under it. He just held still and tilted his head that way to listen to what the doctor had to say. “We’re going to carefully extend your left wing, Dr. Reid. I want you to let us know at any point if it begins to pain you. The last thing we want is for this to become a painful experience for you.”

There was no real point in telling them that it already was. Spencer held still and forced himself to relax his wing into the hands that took hold of it. He wanted to stretch his wing out himself and had to fight to let them control things. He did really well, right up until the end. Until he felt a little twitch in his muscle and he couldn’t quite help himself. On a soft groan he stopped holding back and extended his wing the rest of the way, The feeling of stretching out his muscles had him letting out yet another groan, this one a whole lot more pleasurable. It was like that feeling of waking up in the morning and getting in a really good stretch while still lying in bed. Muscles that had been cooped up for too long were given a chance to finally stretch themselves out.

He heard the two men behind him stumble and then he heard Remy’s delighted laugh. “Feel good there, cher?”

“Absolutely.” Spencer bowed his head down and gave another little stretch, working out some of the knots that had been building. God, it felt great! The only way it would’ve felt better would’ve been to stretch out the other one as well. But he knew it wasn’t quite ready for it yet. It wasn’t healed enough. Still, he’d take what he could get with this one.

“You ready fo’ dis, or y’ want Remy to give y’ a moment?”

Turning his head, Spencer lowered his wing enough to look at the smug look that Remy was wearing. To his credit the Cajun just laughed at the glare Spencer gave him. Then he reached out for the tray that was set up near him. On it were two spray bottles that were full of warm water they could mist the wing with. The rest of it was going to have to be done by hand.

The first bit of water had Spencer jumping. He had to close his eyes against the pain that brought up. _Dammit!_ Moving like that was definitely _not_ a good plan.

“Y’ all right up dere?” he heard Remy ask.

Spencer kept his eyes closed and nodded his head. “Yes. Continue, please.”

He was grateful when no one said anything on it. They stayed quiet as Remy started to once more wet down his wing. For the next little bit, there was mostly silence around them. It gave Spencer time to relax once more. When it finally came time for Remy to start the actual grooming, he gave Spencer a murmured warning before he reached out to touch the first feather. What came next was something that was so much better than Spencer had expected it to be. The feel of Remy’s fingers carding through his feathers, righting the crooked ones and cleaning out the dust he found along the way, was the most wonderful thing Spencer had ever felt. Better even than when he did it himself. He couldn’t help his low groan when Remy smoothed down a patch close to the base. Trying to smother the sound, he dropped his head down to rest on his arms.

Logan and Hank started talking lowly off to the side of him. At some point Spencer was sure they tried to say something to him. He just didn’t really care enough to pay that much attention. All of his focus was on the amazing fingers that were working their way through his wing.

For his part, Remy seemed content in his work, humming lightly as he worked. He’d admired Spencer's wings since the first time he’d seen them. As he got all the dirt and dust off and straightened the feathers back out he got a chance to really see and appreciate them. They were _beautiful_. And the colors seemed deeper, more vibrant, the cleaner they became. Remy stroked his fingers over a couple. He found a tiny little pebble between a couple of them and winced in sympathy before he gently worked it out. No wonder the kid had been twitching! Having his wings like this had to be uncomfortable.

Spencer had told him that wetting them down and cleaning them was important to do first. Once that was done, they’d worry about the oil. That meant that once Remy was done with the good wing, they had to do their best with the broken one.

Unwrapping it and stretching it out wasn’t an option. It needed to stay wrapped so it could heal properly. But if it was anything like Spencer's left wing—and it was probably worse, seeing as it was the one that had been pinned—they couldn’t just leave it like that. This was the part Hank had been the most hesitant about. It was also the only part that Spencer had agreed to let any other hands help with.

“It hasn’t even been a full week yet, Dr. Reid.” Hank pointed out as his hands moved gently over the bandaging holding Spencer's wing. “By all rights, we should simply change the bandage and keep your wing in tight. The last thing I want is for the bone to heal wrong.”

“I don’t want that either, Dr. McCoy. Trust me.”

Only, when the bandage was removed and Spencer shifted his wing, just the slightest bit, he was stunned to find that there wasn’t anywhere near as much pain as he was expecting. He gave another little shift. That… that should be hurting more than it was. With his eyes closed he focused on the wing as he drew it in a little. “Dr. McCoy, would you mind showing me where exactly the break was located?”

Large, gentle hands moved over Spencer's wing until they were at the ‘forearm’ of his wing. “Though we were unable to x-ray your wing, as I’m sure you understand, the other doctors and I were quite certain it was here in the radius, close to your elbow joint.”

Spencer focused his attention there as best as he could and gave another little movement. When there was only an ache, no serious pain, he stretched it a bit more, ignoring Hank’s admonishing “Dr. Reid!” There was still pain, yes, but nothing like a broken bone, and Spencer knew what broken bones felt like. He drew his wing back in and stretched it a little bit more. The muscles protested and there was a bit more pain. Still, no agony. None of the usual broken bone feelings. He drew it back in loosely, allowing Hank’s hands to find it once more. “Feel over it for me, would you, Dr. McCoy? I believe there’s a chance that the swelling might’ve made things look worse than they actually were. I’m not feeling any breaks. A sprain, maybe, in the elbow joint. Some bruising, definitely. But it doesn’t feel broken to me.” He wanted to make sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking. The idea of a broken wing terrified him.

The room was quiet as Hank did what Spencer requested. There were a few long, tense moments in which Spencer sat silent, not even flinching from the pain of the touch. He drew a little strength from it when he felt Remy press a hand gently against his good wing and card through his feathers much like one would to someone’s hair.

After a long beat there was a low huff of breath from Hank. “I believe you might be right, Dr. Reid. If you’re up for it, I’d like to get in the portable x-ray machine while we’re in a space here with more room to move. We could confirm it then.”

“But you don’t believe it’s broken.” Spencer repeated.

“No, I don’t.”

The relief Spencer felt at that was immense. He sighed away a tension that had been sitting in his shoulders this whole time. Broken bones could take a while to heal. The rest of it, he could cope with. But waiting for his wings to heal? Waiting for a break to heal and hoping it healed right? He hadn’t been eager for that.

Remy’s hand joined Hank’s on the other wing, leaving behind Spencer's good one, and there was a smile in his voice as he told Spencer “I’ll make sure I’m real careful with dis one, cher, don’t y’ worry.”

He’d just barely started to spray the water when a sound interrupted them. The whole room could hear as a voice outside called out “Sir, you can’t go in there!” Spencer sat up straighter, his wings trying to straighten out as well in preparation for trouble. That sounded like Emily, and that was worry and annoyance both in her voice. He heard her again, louder and closer this time, demanding “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

The doors to the operating room swung open and Spencer didn’t even have to turn to find out who was coming in. The next voice that spoke made _that_ absolutely clear. “Good luck with that, honey. I’m the one that signs their paychecks.” Tony Stark strolled his way into the operating room without a single care for the agents trailing in after him. He only had eyes for one person. Spencer watched with resignation as one of his oddest friends came around the edge of the bed and into view, whistling as he pushed his sunglasses up and let his eyes run over Spencer's wings. “Well I’ll be damned, would you look at you.” He came to a stop in front of Spencer, completely unconcerned for the tense Wolverine who stood there as well, and held out the balloon in his hand. Spencer let his eyes travel up until he could clearly see the bright Tweety Bird on there with the words ‘Get Well Soon’. “I brought this for you. I wanted to bring you a snack basket, too, but the nurse at the desk told me worms aren’t exactly ‘sanitary’, and, well, I’ve learned to never argue with medical staff.”

Spencer tried his hardest not to sigh or roll his eyes or any of the usual things Tony inspired in him. “Hello, Tony.”

“Hey there, kitten. I heard you were trying to play hero again.” Making a ‘tsk’ sound, Tony pushed the balloon off onto Emily, who had come up beside him with both Derek and Scott on her heels. She took the balloon, because it was either take it or let it float to the ceiling, and Tony turned back towards Spencer. “You know, you almost sent Nat into convulsions when she learned where you were. I’ve never seen her go so mad at someone who wasn’t, well, _me_. I still have no idea how Clint got her to calm down, but he says you owe him.”

The thought of that made Spencer grimace. He could only imagine. Natasha was extremely protective of the people she considered ‘hers’. Somehow over the years Spencer had made it into that category.

“I’m sorry, Reid.” Emily ignored Tony and moved up to stand by Spencer, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. “I tried to stop him from coming in. I didn’t think you’d want an audience for this.” At the word ‘this’ she gestured over his shoulder. There was something in her eyes that made Spencer want to look away. He didn’t want to try and decipher what it was. However, that look right there was part of why he _hadn’t_ wanted an audience for this. It’d been bad enough with Logan and Hank in here, plus Stark security out by the door. Now he had Logan, Hank, Remy, Emily, Derek, Scott, and Tony. A whole audience! And none of them seemed like they planned on leaving.

Tony, he knew, wouldn’t go. But maybe he could get the others to leave. He looked up at Emily and tried to smile at her. “It’s fine, Emily. I knew he’d show up eventually.”

“Of course. I’ve invested too much time and money in you to just leave you here.” Tony said immediately. He moved forward, eyes moving beyond Spencer to the rigging behind him on his bed. There was a look of disgusted horror on his face. “And it’s a good thing I came, too. What the hell is this setup they have you under? God, that looks uncomfortable.” Tony bent over and looked behind Spencer. He didn’t pay anyone else much attention. There was a look on his face that Spencer knew well, one that said he was thinking and probably already finding a solution. It didn’t surprise him when Tony straightened back up and grinned. “You know what you need? A sling. An upper body sling with side cutouts that make it easy to fit your wings through. It’d allow full back support without putting all the weight on your shoulders while keeping you elevated enough that they could lower the bed top and your wings could actually rest semi comfortably. Or as comfortably as they can in here. I could have one rigged up in no time flat back home. Bruce could probably have it waiting for us when we get there.”

And there was the part he’d been waiting for. He finally gave in and rolled his eyes; it hurt less than a sigh. “I’m not going home with you, Tony.”

“I could just wait till they give you your meds and just _take_ you. You’d never know.”

“Tony.” Spencer put as much warning in the man’s name as he possibly could. He heard the tone underneath those words that had suggested Tony was actually thinking about doing it. He must not have been the only one to hear it because Derek straightened up and firmly said “You do realize you’re talking about kidnapping a federal agent in front of his team, don’t you?”

Tony waved a hand dismissively in Derek’s direction. “More like birdnapping, really.” He beamed brightly at Spencer. “I’ve never had a pet bird before! I had a hamster once. We’re not allowed to talk about that anymore, though. But I bet I’d be a great bird-owner.”

“He aint a pet fo’ y’ to _own_.” Remy snapped, speaking up for the first time since Tony had come in.

His voice brought Tony’s gaze up and over Spencer's shoulder. There was amusement written in every inch of him. “Says the man _grooming_ him.”

Remy was, in fact, still grooming Spencer. He’d started back up as soon as he realized who’d arrived. It was kind of nice that the man hadn’t stepped up until now. He’d let Spencer speak for and defend himself. That, plus the fact that he didn’t flinch or seem the least bit bothered to be called out on his grooming, gave Spencer a little more courage. Enough to shoot Tony a warning look and tell him “Be nice to my friends, Tony.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not even nice to _my_ friends.”

That wasn’t technically true. To an outsider, it might seem so. But Spencer knew better. He knew the type of friend Tony could be. It was the reason he put up with things like this. So he glossed right past that remark and opted instead to open his eyes and look over at his team, all of whom were looking at him curiously. “Ignore him, please. He’s harmless, I assure you. He just likes to rile people up.” He slanted a look at Tony. “Usually you’re a bit better behaved. Where’s your keeper? I wasn’t aware they let you out without one anymore.”

Instead of being offended, Tony grinned. “I slipped out. I imagine they’ll catch up soon enough once they realize I left the tower. I would’ve brought Brucie with me but I didn’t think it’d be smart to bring Big Green to a hospital surrounded by reporters and mutant-haters. I told him I’d do my best to convince you to come back to the Tower where he can look at you all proper like.”

“I’m not going back with you.” Spencer repeated. He’d repeat it as many times as it took.

“Hm. We’ll see about that. In the meantime!” He twisted to look at Hank now, wearing that Cheshire grin that had let him charm so many people. “Dr. McCoy. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chat. Why don’t we go talk and see about rigging up a better bed for our little birdie while he finishes up his bath?”

And just like that, the whirlwind that was Tony Star was on his way out of the room, taking Hank with him. His exit had the others leaving as well, for which Spencer was eternally grateful. He was left with just Remy and Logan in the room, and Logan seemed to have retreated over by the door to give them a bit of privacy. Remy, bless him, didn’t speak. His hands continued in their easy movements and Spencer was able to push away all thoughts of Tony, his friends, and anything else, just getting lost in the sensations that were echoing down his wings. The medication Hank was still giving him might’ve helped with that floaty feeling, too. Spencer had agreed to something a little stronger since he was going to be upright for a while.

When Remy made his way around to the front, Spencer was half asleep. He felt as something soft was pressed at his arms. It only took a second for him to realize that it was a coat—Remy’s coat. He gave a happy little chirp and drew it in, pillowing his head all the more comfortably. There he lay, half asleep as Remy groomed him.

There was a brief moment when those long fingers found his oil glands that some part of Spencer tried to surface again. A bit of embarrassment tried to creep in and his wings lifted and ruffled just a bit. But Remy’s free hand stroked over his hair and the Cajun made a low shushing sound. Spencer gave a sleepy little chirrup and settled back into his makeshift pillow. He drifted, mostly asleep, as those gentle thief’s fingers smoothed the oil over his feathers and the soft sound of humming filled the air.


	12. Chapter 12

The soft feel of a hand in his hair drew Spencer out of his half-sleep and up towards wakefulness. Long fingers played through his crest, smoothing his hair down around it, and then those fingers danced down towards the feathers on his cheek. When Spencer opened his eyes, he expected to see Remy standing there, so it was a big surprise when he saw not Remy, but Tony. There was a gentleness in his look that so very few people got to see there. Fewer still would’ve believed him even capable of it.

Spencer smiled at his friend. “I’m all right, Tony.” He murmured lowly.

The older man snorted. His hand drifted back up, cupping Spencer's head. “How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not the superhero here, kitten? You try to save everyone and you’re just going to get yourself killed.” A hint of his usual sass flashed in his eyes and had his lips quirking up. “If that happens, who’s going to help me finish my Tricorder prototype?”

A low chuckle tickled Spencer's throat. “I’m sure you’d manage just fine on your own.”

“True.” Tony said immediately. “But where’s the fun in that? Besides, if something happened to you, the rest of the team would riot and then I’d probably have to be the sensible one and reign them in, and you know how much I hate being sensible. Don’t make me be sensible, Zazu.”

Lips curving up a little more, Spencer nodded. He knew well how to read between the lines of Tony’s snark.

The man smiled back at him and some of the tension lines at the corners of his eyes faded away. His smile was a shade more real than the one he’d been wearing earlier. With a skill born of longtime practice, real emotion was shoved away and the ever-present humor that he hid behind was pulled back out to mask everything else. He bent in close and lowered his voice to a murmur for Spencer's ears only. “When we get settled in later, you’re going to tell me all about how you managed to pick up a gorgeous Cajun boyfriend and keep it from me for so long. I want to know _everything_.”

Color flooded Spencer's cheeks. “Tony!” He hissed, eyes darting to where Remy still stood by the tip of one of left wing. The Cajun wasn’t really grooming him anymore, Spencer noticed. He was just sort of stroking his fingers along the feathers there while he talked to Hank and Logan, who were busy doing…something, to a new hospital bed that had been brought in and parked by Spencer's.

Tony chuckled and straightened back up, smirking down at him. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. It makes you look even younger.”

This time his voice was back to a normal volume, which meant it managed to catch the attention of others. As Spencer straightened up he watched Remy turn towards them and grin. He tilted his head and flashed Spencer a wink from the side of his sunglasses. “Don’t worry bout it, cher. T’ink it’s cute, me.”

“I feel like I should protest that.” Tony said. He had a contemplative look on his face for a moment before he nodded and turned to better face Remy, moving a step away from Spencer. “Yeah, I really think I should. The kid already looks like he’s twelve and that blush makes it worse. Are you usually into kids, LeBeau, or is this a new sort of – _oof_!” The last bit cut off on a grunt when Spencer pulled his good wing away from Remy and curled it in enough to clip Tony in the side of the head with it. “Be nice!” Spencer snapped at him, blushing even harder than before.

“I just think that’s something we should know!” Tony insisted. He darted back from another swing of Spencer's wing, grinning, only to get caught when it snapped back and slapped the back of his head. The movement had Spencer flinching as well, his body not quite up to it. Passing out bent over like he had been was probably the stupidest thing he’d done so far.

Spencer finished straightening up, hands going to the little tray to brace himself. Being bent over had been relaxing at first, just the right amount of bend that it kept from hurting his stitches, but he’d been there for far too long and straightening back up was a lot more painful than he’d anticipated. The sight of him struggling had both Tony and Remy stepping forward at the same time. Tony got there first, being closer, and he reached out without hesitation to catch hold of Spencer and gently brace him up. The way he stood not-so-subtly made it clear there was no room for anyone else up here. A bit amused by it, Remy settled for moving to Spencer's back and laying hand gently on the least bruised parts he could find.

“I’m fine.” Spencer breathed out, trying to reassure them both. “I’m all right. I was just bent over for too long.”

“Well now’s as good a time as any to try out your new bed.”

That brought Spencer's attention over to the bed where Hank and Logan had been working. What he saw had him tilting his head curiously.

The new bed had some kind of rigging near the top of it. It looked almost like a sling, only there were panels missing from the back and little buckles down near the hip area. Spencer stared at it, trying to get his brain to wake up enough for him to maybe figure out how on earth it was going to work. Tony took pity on him and gave him a quick rundown. “It’s a sling, just like I said before, only it’s got some spots removed so that we won’t have to worry about pressure on the bruises on your back. Once you’re in it, it’ll make a lot more sense.”

“I’m sure.” Spencer murmured. He looked the bed over a moment longer and then sighed. “Well, I guess it’s time to see how well I can walk, then.” And without giving Tony time to say anything, or for anyone else to lodge a protest, Spencer reached up and caught hold of his friend’s arms. It was a bit satisfying to hear Tony’s low curses as he instinctively grabbed on to Spencer as well. The things he was saying weren’t all that flattering. However, it didn’t stop him from carefully helping hold Spencer as the young genius pushed up onto legs that were far too shaky for his peace of mind.

When finally Spencer was up on his feet, his legs shaky yet holding, he was almost eye to eye with Tony. He gave his friend a half-smile. “Thanks.”

Tony scoffed at him and rolled his eyes. “You’re annoying and ridiculous and I don’t know why on earth I like you.”

“Because I’m one of the few people who is not only willing to put up with you, but can also keep up with you more than most.”

That had Tony grinning. “True. I suppose I should make sure you stay alive, then.”

“Your kindness is touching.” Spencer said dryly. He was smiling too.

Slowly, Tony began to take small steps backwards, never letting go of Spencer's arms. It drew Spencer forward step by little step and led him closer and closer to the new bed. When he got close to the bed, they turned a little so that his back was to it. “All right, Spencer.” Tony said, actually using Spencer's real name for once. That was enough to catch his attention and bring his eyes up, his focus off of moving and on Tony now. “You’ve got your doctor and your boyfriend behind him. They’re going to do some doctor-y things with your wings and get them safely against your back.”

The use of the word ‘boyfriend’ had Spencer wanting to stammer out a protest. They weren’t dating! They hadn’t really done anything yet! But he didn’t get a chance to talk. Remy spoke first, and he didn’t seem the least bit flustered by Tony’s choice of words. At least, not that word.

“Doctor-y t’ings.” Remy said, snorting. “Sounds so professional dere, mec.” His voice shifted a little and changed to a gentler tone that made it clear just who he was speaking to next. He came right up behind Spencer, one hand curling lightly over his wing bone. “All right, cher. We need y’ to draw y’r wings in as best as y’ can. Can y’ do dat?”

Slowly, carefully, Spencer drew his wings in. He wasn’t seated yet, so he brought them in against his back and between him and the bed.

Once they were both in, the right one starting to throb in protest at all this movement, Remy stroked a hand over his left wing. “ _Bon_. Now, dis part might not be all dat fun. Can y’ sit down without it hurting de bottoms of y’r wings?”

That was easy enough. The bottoms were mostly feathers and bended easily enough so long as he was careful. Still holding on to Tony, Spencer carefully sat himself down on the edge of the bed. Hank and Remy both took hold of him as he did, passing him off from Tony’s hands to theirs, and Tony actually went down by Spencer's legs and gathered them up, lifting them up onto the bed as they all turned him. Between the three of them they got him laying down in the contraption that Tony had rigged up for him. The straps and buckles, Spencer found out, were to make it easier for his wings to go down between the new sling and the bed. Then the straps were brought back, carefully put between Spencer's wings and his back, and buckled in down near his hips.

When he laid back, he was surprised by just how big a different this sling was from the last one. Instead of all his weight being on his shoulders, it was distributed across his shoulders, shoulder blades, and some of his lower back where the bruising was less. Until that moment Spencer hadn’t realized how badly the shoulder strap had been bothering him. This set up, he found himself able to relax down into it, sighing at the way it eased the pressure on the rest of his body. Even his wings were better set up, resting on the bed and a little over the edges without being squished. Spencer rolled his head to smile over at Tony. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It took like, five minutes to figure out. Once you’re out of here we’ll get you something a whole lot better.”

Spencer was smiling as they started to wheel his bed out of the room.

* * *

The rest of the day was a lot more relaxed than Remy had expected it to be. He only got to spend part of it in Spencer's room with him. What little he’d been in there for, it was clear he was in good company. Tony didn’t once leave him alone in there. He stayed in the room and even had someone go out and get them what he called ‘real food’.

Remy wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Tony Stark. He seemed like someone Remy could either have a hell of a lot of fun hanging out with, or someone he’d end up punching before the night was out. It was sort of a toss-up either way. The urge to hit him had been pretty strong earlier. Watching him with Spencer had helped to chase some of that away. If Remy had been any less observant, he might’ve found himself a bit jealous of the relationship so obviously present between the two men. As it was, he would’ve had to have been blind to miss the obvious affection present between the two—an affection that held an almost familial note. Kind of like the relationship between Logan and ‘his kids’. Spencer was clearly a friend to Tony, yet there was something in the way that Tony interacted with him that gave off… not a _paternal_ vibe. More like, friendly Uncle?

Not that you could see it now. At the moment the man was sitting in a chair with his feet up on the table and his phone in his hands. He looked both bored and a bit amused, and not in the least bit bothered by the fact that he was shut away in the private waiting room with a full team of FBI profilers and a bunch of X-Men.

Scott, Jean, Hank, Remy, Derek, Aaron, Dave, Emily, and JJ were all in the room, making it a bit more crowded than usual. Logan had opted to stay down inside Spencer's room and keep an eye on the sleeping guy. After a rather relaxing afternoon spent talking and hanging out, and trying to get food into Spencer, the genius had finally given in to the exhaustion visible on his face and he’d passed out. Once they were sure he was asleep, they’d all come down here, Tony following after them.

He was the one to start the conversation. After grinning at something on his phone, he looked up at the people spread around him, eyes flickering over to Hank for only long enough to ask “So, how soon can the little birdie be moved?” Then his eyes were back on his phone.

“We’re hoping to be able to move him out of here by tomorrow.” Hank answered him.

“Perfect.” Tony quickly typed out another message. He didn’t bother looking up nor stopping his typing as he told them “I should have everything set up by then. The rest of my team should be at my place by tonight and I can’t imagine it’ll take Bruce long to get everything set up. Most of the team likes our runt, so they’ll work hard. It’ll be ready for him by tomorrow morning.”

More than a few people straightened up at that. Remy could see the BAU members exchanging looks, as were Scott and Jean. They all seemed surprised by it. Why, Remy didn’t know. He could’ve predicted this from within the first half hour of watching the two interact. Apparently the others hadn’t, though. “Um, excuse me?” Jean said slowly.

Aaron didn’t bother being as polite. “We already have a safe house set up for him.” The man said firmly.

Chuckling, Tony shook his head. “That’s cute. A little safe house, set up by the very FBI that would probably like nothing more than to arrest him right now. Adorable. Tell me, were you thinking of letting local cops guard him, too, or were you planning on just leaving the door open and inviting everyone inside?” Tony looked up at them and arched an eyebrow at them, every inch of him dripping sarcasm and amusement. Then he shook his head again. “I have a place here in town I’ve kept for when I visit the squirt. It’s already got a heavy-duty security system on it and can’t be easily accessed by human means without getting past that security. He’ll be safe there with me, under my security measures and with my team watching him. That’ll free the group of you up to maybe, I don’t know—find and stop the idiots that did this in the first place?”

“We can protect him!” JJ snapped. She looked offended by the implication that they couldn’t.

“I can do it better.” Tony said immediately. He snapped his phone shut and folded his hands down into his lap. “Look. We all know that putting Spencer under protection is only half the job. The other half is going to be forcing him to _stay_ under protection. You guys are already spreading yourself thin here trying to protect him, everyone else, trying to figure out the ones that did this, dealing with the riots, _and_ trying to prevent any further attacks. You try to split all your time back and forth between all that and guarding him? Something’s gonna give. I won’t let it be him. “

That goofy, snarky, playful guy that he’d been so far seemed to get pushed to the background in that moment. Tony’s eyes were sharp as they traveled over the room. It made it more than clear just how serious he’d been with that last remark. He wasn’t going to let Spencer suffer. Not any more than he already had. That right there made it clear to any who hadn’t noticed it before just how much Spencer meant to Tony.

The serious look melted away and made room for the smile to come back, though there was still a hint of it hidden away in his eyes. “Besides, I’ve got plenty of toys he can play with there. I have a few new projects I can pull out and let him tinker with. That should help keep him busy enough.”

“Reid won’t want to just sit around and play.” Derek pointed out. He sounded far less defensive than his friends had. He was watching Tony carefully, hands pushed down into his pockets and body relaxed. “He’s already looked at the case files for this. These people who got hurt, they’re important to him. A lot of them are his friends. He won’t just sit back and let us investigate this for him.”

“Yeah, well, until Doc McCoy here or Bruce clears him, the kid’s benched. He can run command center but that’s about as far as he’s gonna get.”

Remy couldn’t help himself. He snorted. When Tony turned to give him a curious look, Remy flashed him a smirk. “Warn me b’fore y’ tell him dat, would y’? I’d like t’be far, far away when dat conversation happens.” Everything he’d learned about Spencer so far told him that _that_ conversation wouldn’t go over all that well.

“Ha!” Tony lifted a finger and jabbed it Remy’s direction. “That implies that _I’m_ going to be the one to tell him that.” He spread both hands out on either side of him, palm up, and put on an innocent expression that fooled no one. “I’m just the happy Uncle in our little family. News like that, Mom and Pop get to take care of.”

It was Jean who asked what all of them were thinking. “I can’t believe I’m asking this,” She paused and shook her head, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Who exactly are Mom and Pop, then?”

“Steve and Nat. Which means one of them get to tell the tiny one he’s on house arrest. Probably Natasha. He won’t win against her and he knows it.”

With a clap of his hands, Tony cut off whatever else anyone might’ve said. “Well, all right then!” Pushing up to his feet he pointed a finger at Remy. “You – with me. You can come satisfy yourself that our boy is going to be safe and I can shamelessly grill you on your intentions.”

Well hell. That didn’t sound good at all. But all it took was one thought of the sleeping man down the hall and Remy was pushing himself up straight and meeting Tony’s gaze without flinching. He’d been married to an assassin and had dated _Rogue_. There was no way he was going to be cowed by Tony freaking Stark. The man better realize that right now. With one hand Remy tipped his sunglasses down so Tony could get the full view of his devil eyes. Then he winked at him. “Remy’s got de worst kind of intentions, in all de best ways, mec.”

He was pleased when Tony didn’t flinch or even look surprised about his eyes. As for his words, they had the older man giving a sharp grin that showed the troublemaker inside. “This is going to be fun.” He moved forward and reached out to Remy, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling the Cajun against his side. “Come on, kid. Let me tell you about the first time I met our little birdbrain.”


	13. Chapter 13

A lot of plans were made that night while Spencer was sleeping. There were plenty of people that cared about the young genius—more than he even realized, and would’ve flustered him had he seen them all gathered together—and not a one of them was willing to risk anything happening to him. Coordinating their efforts took some time. It was made a bit easier by the fact that Remy stayed out at Tony’s place with him. That allowed him to act as a go-between for the Avengers and the X-Men, and in turn the X-Men acted as the go-between for the Avengers and the BAU team. It was chaotic and a bit messy, but it worked. They made it work.

Most everything had been organized by the time that Spencer woke up. By the time breakfast was brought in to him, things had been organized as best as possible. It was Derek who brought his breakfast in to him, as well as a care package from Tony, and it was left up to him to explain it all to Spencer. He did, once he got the genius sitting up a bit in bed and eating.

“We’ve got your safe house all arranged for you.” Derek told him, taking the chair right next to Spencer's bed. He waited until he saw the first bite of oatmeal go in Spencer's mouth before he started to explain anything more. “Instead of the Bureau safe house, we’re setting you up somewhere a little different.”

Spencer paused in mid bite to look at his friend with surprise. “Different?”

Giving Spencer a stern look, the profiler waited until Spencer rolled his eyes and took another bite. Then he continued. “Yeah. Apparently Stark was a bit offended by the idea that you were going to go to what he called a ‘crap house’ that was under Bureau protection, so he insisted that you come out to his place here in DC. He doesn’t seem to think the Bureau or the local LEO’s would be able to protect you as good as he can. An, honestly,” Here Derek paused, looking just a bit pained. “I kind of agree with him.”

There wasn’t really anything Spencer could say to that. He didn’t disagree with it. The idea of anyone aside from his friends being there to look out for him had been making him nervous. There was no telling if someone would be able to slip through the ranks who wasn’t all that fond of mutants. Having to deal with something like that could make his recovery a whole lot worse. Spencer chose not to mention that, though. Instead, he focused on something else. “Tony has a place here in DC?”

That brought a smile to Derek’s lips. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach and chuckled. “Yeah. He said you’d probably be surprised by that, an to tell you that you’re an idiot if you thought he was going to stay at a hotel each time he came to see you. Dude, you have got the strangest friends. He’s got his own _high-rise_ , Reid.” There was a reluctant sort of awe on Derek’s face. He wasn’t typically one to be impressed by money or power, but it was a little hard not to be when you dealt with Tony sometimes. “I don’t mean that he just owns a penthouse in the high-rise or anything. He owns the whole damn thing.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. Yeah, that sounded like Tony. Why bother buying a single condo—one that was so rarely used!—when you could go ahead and own the whole building. “He’s not exactly known for doing things halfway.”

“I can see that. He’s got the whole place outfitted enough that even your little admirer seemed dutifully impressed. An according to Scott, it takes a lot to impress Remy on anything that deals with security.”

The ‘little admirer’ part had Spencer wanting to scowl. As much as he was really starting to love his interactions with Remy and the attention the Cajun gave his way, he could’ve done without all the teasing it was earning him. With anyone else he might’ve just bit his tongue; with Derek, the words just sort of spilled out of him. He knew he was safe to say whatever he wanted here. “Do you think maybe you could lay off the admirer jokes a bit, Morgan? I’m going to hear it enough from everyone else. I’d like at least five minutes where I don’t have to be teased unmercifully simply because someone has the bad judgment to flirt with me.” His tone sharpened, a hint of bitterness seeping through. “I understand it’s a novel experience, but I’m sure everyone will get over it. I’d like to be able to enjoy it while it lasts without everyone trying to use it to embarrass me.”

“Hey, hey.” Derek was suddenly a whole lot more alert. He sat forward in his chair and reached out to lay a hand on Spencer's leg. “I wasn’t trying to pick on you, kid. Not like that at least. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I’m _happy_ for you, man. It’s about damn time someone sees just how great you are. I think it shows a lot of _good_ judgement on Remy’s part.” He gave a gentle squeeze to Spencer's leg and smiled at him. “You’re a hell of a catch, kid. Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise. An I’m sorry if my teasing you made you feel like you aren’t.”

Blush colored Spencer's cheeks. He ducked his head down and fought not to curl his wings in around himself.

Well versed in Spencer, and smart enough to back off when he saw the signs, Derek drew his hand back and settled down into his chair. Then he picked up the conversation as if they hadn’t broken away from it at all. “Stark’s at his place making sure that everything’s set up there and ready to go. Once you’re done eating, we’re going to go ahead and get you dressed and then we’re going to try and get you out of here. It shouldn’t be that much of a problem. A few of the X-Men, Hotch, Prentiss, and I are going to escort you down to the parking garage. A couple of the Avengers are going to meet us in there with their own vehicle. Dr. McCoy’s going to go ahead and ride with you as a doctor and a bodyguard to make sure that you get to Stark’s place all right. From there, they should be able to get you inside all right. Remy, Stark, and I think Banner are going to stay there with some of the Stark security team to make sure no crowds caught wind of where you’re going and try to get there.”

“It sounds like you guys have everything in order.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“What kind of vehicle do they have?” Spencer asked. He scooped up the last bite of the oatmeal and then pushed the bowl away. The fruit on the plate didn’t look all that appealing. He wasn’t that hungry.

Derek looked at the food left on his tray but chose not to comment on that, for which Spencer was grateful. He answered Spencer's question instead. “A medical supply van. Hotch said the back has been emptied out and a mattress put in so you’ll have something soft to lay on. There should be enough room for you and your wings in there.”

It sounded like they had everything organized. Spencer hated that he was going to be mostly out of commission for this. Everyone was going to be protecting _him_. That was a strange feeling for him.

Once they had his breakfast cleared away, the package that Derek had brought with him was lifted and set up on the bed. The man laid his hand on it and grinned. “Soon as we get someone in here to get you unhooked, your friend sent over some special clothes for you to wear. I bet you’re ready to put on real clothes again.”

That was putting it mildly. Spencer could barely wait as Derek called a nurse in and Spencer was unhooked from everything. That took a little while and Spencer had to kick Derek out at one point, just for privacy’s sake. There were some things not even a best friend should be able to see. But eventually Spencer had been unhooked from every single piece of machinery, had been given his first oral dose of pain medication as well as a walkthrough of what pills he needed to take for the next little while and why. Only when all of that was done did the woman let Derek back in the room.

“All right, man.” Derek said as he strolled back into the room. “Let’s see what Stark packed for you.”

There was a full outfit in the little bag. Boxers, a pair of pajama pants that would sit nice and loose on his stomach and over his leg, which still held stitches in it, and a rather soft shirt, as well as socks and a pair of red Chucks. The fact that the socks didn’t match made Derek chuckle. “He really does know you, doesn’t he?”

“Shut up.” Spencer grumbled. Still, he was smiling.

As embarrassing as it was, Spencer had to give in and allow Derek to help him get dressed. It was an experience neither man was going to speak on later. But at least once they got the boxers on, things became much easier. Derek got him into the pants next and tied them loosely at his waist after making sure none of it was going to hit any sore spot on his stomach. After that, Spencer had to go through the embarrassment of sitting on the edge of the bed while his friend bent down and put on his socks and shoes for him.

Once that was done, they came to the last item of clothing. The one that Spencer wasn’t entirely sure how it was going to work.

The doubt must’ve been evident on his face because Derek grinned. “Don’t worry, kid. Check this out.” That said, he lifted the shirt and shook it out, allowing Spencer to get his first full view of it.

At first he noted the simple things. That it was plain and simple, no designs, and a very basic dark green color. Then his eyes took in the other details that suddenly made the thing seem a whole lot more interesting.

Once he saw how it was made, the idea of it seemed pretty simple. It was just made backwards to what the average shirt was. It was a mix of a pull on shirt and a button up. The neck was loose and easy for Derek to stretch over Spencer's head, settling it down on his shoulders. His casted hands were carefully pulled through each sleeve. Then Derek went around behind him to the unique part of the shirt. Instead of buttoning up the front, the shirt buttoned up the back. There were two gaps instead of one, making for a flap that came down between his wings. Underneath the base of each wing was a row of buttons that led down to the bottom of the shirt. Once Derek had those done up, the shirt settled down easily and comfortably.

It wasn’t as good as having a jacket to drape over himself and hide inside of, but it was much better than nothing at all and Spencer was absurdly grateful to Tony for coming up with it.

Derek came around and stood in front of him, hands on his hips and grinning. “There. If it weren’t for the leftover bruises and the casts, you’d look almost normal.”

“Normal?” Spencer arched an eyebrow, then a wing.

It only made Derek laugh. “Well, normal enough.”

The two shared a smile. Then Derek held his hand out towards his friend. “What do you say we bust you outta here?”

“I say – thank God.”

The two were laughing as Spencer took hold of Derek’s hand and rose slowly to his feet.

* * *

There was no way that Spencer could ride down to the parking garage in a wheelchair, nor was he capable of walking down there either. Walking was still a slow and slightly painful experience for him. That much of it was a bit beyond him. But Hank had prepared for that, as well as for the fact that they wanted to be as discreet as possible in getting him out of there. That was how Spencer found himself once more lying on a hospital bed. Only, this time he was gently placed on his side, something that took a bit of care and some pillows to help prop up a leg and make it that much easier on his stomach. He was offered extra pain medication and turned it down. He wanted to be able to pay attention, even if it meant he ached the entire ride down to the parking garage.

His wings were tucked in carefully and held as close to his back as he could manage. Three blankets draped over him, covering him up towards his face, worked to hide the wings from view. In the eyes of any people they might’ve passed there was simply someone on a hospital bed being pushed down the hallway. Hospital beds being wheeled into the elevator weren’t that surprising.

Two orderlies took Spencer from his room and down to the elevator to make sure that they didn’t draw attention with a large crowd. From there, they went to a floor that had been discreetly cleared, allowing them to wheel him out into the hall where his friends were waiting. There, he was helped off the bed and supported by Hank and Emily,, the two of them helping to hold him up as he walked into the next elevator that finally took them down to the parking garage.

There were two people waiting for them when the doors opened to the garage. Sandwiched between friends, with a few more standing protectively in front of him, Spencer didn’t see anything at first. Not until everyone started to step out and the way ahead was finally clear. That was when Spencer finally saw the two waiting for him.

Dr. Bruce Banner was already moving forward before Spencer had even cleared the elevator. He didn’t flinch in the least from the wings or anything else. He just went right up to the side that Emily was on and the two traded places as if they’d planned the move. One of Bruce’s arms went around Spencer's waist while his other caught hold of the casted hand closest to him and lifted it, cradling it almost like a sling would. As if to back that up, the very first thing he said was “You should have this in a sling to keep it elevated. Both of them, really.”

Spencer ignored the admonishment and gave the man a shy smile. “Hello, Bruce.”

“Let’s get him to the van, quickly.” Natasha cut in before anyone else could say anything. Her body was tense and alert for any signs of trouble. Her eyes ran over his body and then briefly flicked to lock with his own, the only sign of greeting she gave at the moment. She was fully in protection mode and Spencer knew better than to mess with that. He just let himself be led forward and towards the medical supply van parked just up ahead of them.

The back doors were opened and Bruce broke free from Spencer to climb in first. Someone else was already there, reaching out to Spencer and grinning at him. “Hey there, scrawny.” Clint greeted him easily. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

“ _Please_.” Spencer said fervently. It got him another of Clint’s grins.

What came next wasn’t worth smiling at. Getting Spencer into the van and stretched out on the bed in there was an experience that Spencer very much did not want to have to repeat. He lay there once they were done and contemplated telling them he wasn’t going to get out once they got to their destination. He was just going to lie there and never move again. Ever. Bruises, broken bones, stitches—all of it was screaming loudly at him, each one trying to let him know just how much he’d pushed them. It was almost enough to have him wishing that he’d taken that extra pain pill Hank had tried to push on him. Almost.

There was a whisper of movement as someone came in the door beside him. Then gentle hands were lifting Spencer's head, cradling it very carefully before setting it down somewhere. He blinked his eyes open and found that his head was being cradled in someone’s lap. In _Natasha’s_ lap.

Doors shut around them and someone was talking up front. Spencer thought to himself that he should probably pay attention. Only, when he tried to tilt his head, a hand smoothed through his hair and settled his head back down. “Hush, _myshka_. Just relax. We’ll try to make this as easy as possible.”

There was a part of Spencer that responded to that tone even through the pain and exhaustion. Who knew doing so little could be so exhausting? He trusted himself to Natasha’s and Bruce’s hands and let himself relax as best as he could. The rest of it all could be figured out soon enough. For the moment, he just lay there and let Natasha stroke his hair while Bruce carefully arranged his wings and tried to prop him up with a seemingly endless supply of pillows and the van rumbled to life underneath them.

Cradled there safely with his friends, Spencer hoped they could make it safely out of here without anyone trying to cause any kind of trouble.


	14. Chapter 14

If Spencer had thought that climbing into the van was bad, it was nothing compared to the ride to Tony’s place. No amount of warning could’ve prepared him for what it would feel like. By the time they got there he was a tense line of pain pressed down into Natasha’s lap. He didn’t even flinch when Bruce offered another dose of pain medication. Spencer said nothing, just gave a tiny twitch of his head he hoped was understood, and he let Bruce inject him as soon as they were parked. Then the three of them stayed there while Natasha pet his hair and let the medicine work through his system.

The sound of the door opening startled Spencer and he blinked, scowling at the light that was suddenly in his face. He resolutely slammed his eyes shut. There were voices around him that Spencer didn’t bother to pay any attention to. One of them sounded kind of like Steve, only it was swearing, and since when did Steve swear?

Then there came Natasha’s voice, a low murmur at his ear compared to the arguing that was still going on nearby. “Relax your body as much as you can, _myshka._ Clint and I are going to move you. Don’t try and help.”

Well, all right then. Spencer didn’t like the idea of being moved but he definitely liked the idea of relaxing and not doing anything. That might make it bearable. He kept his eyes closed and his body limp as Natasha both lifted and turned him at the same time, sliding her body down and under his as she did so that she was helping to prop him up by the time he was sitting upright on what he thought might be the tailgate of the van. Then a new set of hands were there. One palm cupped his cheek and the callouses that Spencer felt told him who it was. “All right, squirt.” Clint said, all cheerfulness, like this whole thing wasn’t any sort of big deal. He always managed to sound like that. It was a coping mechanism Spencer was sometimes envious of. “Let Tash lift your arms up for you. We’re going to see how good your koala impression is.”

Koala impression? Spencer furrowed his brow and started to blink his eyes open. The light had him squinting, meaning that he couldn’t see much, but he was sure he caught a glimpse of Clint’s smirk. The man chuckled at whatever expression Spencer wore. “Yeah, I know. Not the most dignified of things. But there aren’t many options on getting your injured ass up there. There’s no way you’re walking right now and your wings don’t make it easy to carry you the normal way. So, we’re improvising! We ready?”

Natasha’s arms slid underneath Spencer’s and gently lifted them up at the same time that Spencer felt Clint bend down. Then his arms were around Clint’s neck and his head at the man’s shoulder before he realized what was going on. Realizing made him better able to help when Clint’s hands hooked underneath his thighs. There was pain— _God, was there pain_!—but then Spencer found himself clinging on to the front of Clint with his arms and legs wrapped around the man, wings curling in as well, and one of Clint’s arms was underneath Spencer's butt while the other was bracing his lower back.

“Breathe, Spencer.” Clint murmured into his ear. The hand on Spencer's back shifted a bit and a thumb rubbed soothingly over him. “Just breathe. I know it hurts, but I’ll get you upstairs quick as I can, I promise.”

The man didn’t even sound the least bit winded from holding Spencer up. He acted like it was nothing to carry him. Any other time and Spencer probably would’ve been embarrassed by what they were doing. He almost felt a little of it now. They were in public and Clint was holding him like a child! Only, his body was hurting like crazy, he just wanted to go lay down, the pain medication was starting to kick in enough to get some things fuzzy at the edges, and Clint was warm and comforting and someone high on Spencer's list of people he could trust. He’d also seen Spencer a lot lower than this before. So Spencer tried to ignore the embarrassment and let himself be held by a friend he knew he could count on.

Other people finally noticed what was going on. How they hadn’t noticed before, Spencer didn’t know. Hadn’t they realized that the three of them were moving back here, or had they really been arguing too much to pay attention to their two spies removing Spencer from the van? Whatever had prevented them from noticing before, it wasn’t stopping them now. Their argument broke up and Spencer heard footsteps moving towards them and someone demanding to know “What the hell are you doing, Barton?”

“You guys were taking too long.” Clint told them all easily. There was the sound of a door opening and the light against Spencer's eyelids shifted. So did the sounds that peoples’ footsteps made. _Inside_ , his brain supplied. They were inside now.

“He had stomach surgery. You really think he should be squished up like that?” That one sounded like Tony. He didn’t sound happy either.

The next voice surprised Spencer. It was Remy. “What if y’ drop him?”

That comment more than anything else seemed to offend Clint. He snorted in open disgust. “I’m not gonna drop him! He weighs like ten pounds soaking wet.”

“Hey.” Spencer grumbled. He frowned against the skin of Clint’s neck. It earned him a chuckle and a pat on the butt. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you fattened up.” Clint told him, sounding just a bit too gleeful by the prospect. “It’ll be easier with you trapped in a bed.”

That didn’t exactly make Spencer feel better. They were all always trying to feed him. But at least Clint usually was happy enough to stuff him full of things like pizza, coffee, and various bits of junk food.

They stopped moving for a moment and Natasha was stroking a hand over one of his wings and Clint was telling him “I need you to curl them in, Spencer” and, oh, he hadn’t even realized just how extended his wings were. Absently snuggling in a little more, Spencer curled his wings in as well, creating a cocoon around him and Clint that nicely dulled the light. He heard a low laugh near his ear and peeked one eye open, finally able to see somewhat now that it wasn’t blindingly bright. His view was mostly the five o’clock shadow on Clint’s chin and a screen of feathers. With his aching wings, he wasn’t able to just wrap them around Clint all that well, which meant the tops of them were sticking up higher than normal, effectively blocking off any view Clint had while walking. “Well, didn’t think that one through.” Clint was saying. He shifted his hold on Spencer, rubbing a little at his thigh when the shift made Spencer wince. “They come up higher than I thought. Tash?”

“On it.” Natasha answered him. Her presence was right up against the side of them, one hand resting lightly over Clint’s arm and Spencer's thigh. That hand guided them a few steps forward and then stopped them. There were a few noises and then the world gave a soft jerk that told Spencer they were in an elevator now.

Spencer zoned it all out. Whatever Bruce had given him was starting to really kick in. There was a blessed numbness that was trying to spread over his body. It wasn’t enough to take away the pain completely, though. Spencer's stomach and the stitches in his leg were throbbing. That, combined with how out of it his body felt and the exhaustion that was tugging at him, he started to shake, adding to the rather pathetic look he had going on here. He pressed his face in a little closer to Clint and hoped that the man didn’t notice. The way Clint started to move faster said that he probably had.

There was no telling how long it took them to get to their destination. Spencer was starting to drift more and more. He didn’t even know they’d made it until he heard Natasha firmly telling people “No. He doesn’t need an audience for this. The rest of you can wait until he’s awake to speak with him.”

Spencer was grateful that she’d booted pretty much everyone out. Having an audience was hard enough. Having _everyone_ watching him was just too much. He was extremely grateful that she hadn’t let Remy in. His embarrassment was starting to grow the more that he thought about things. It bad enough that he was acting like a child in front of his friends. Did he really have to have Remy witness it as well? The man was being helpful but he had to be rethinking his interest in Spencer right now. Who wouldn’t? Spencer needed to stop being so clingy and just man up and do what needed to be done. With that in mind, Spencer tightened his arms a little to brace himself and started to shift his legs so he could drop them down.

Clint carefully helped him stay steady until Spencer had his legs under him once more. The two were close to the same height yet Spencer didn’t bother lifting his head from Clint’s shoulder yet. He hated to admit it but he needed a second to catch his breath. He also wasn’t quite sure his legs would keep him up without Clint holding on to him.

“You’re all right.” One of Clint’s hands came up and smoothed Spencer's hair back, cupping the back of his head. “It’s just me, Tash, an Bruce in here. No need to act so tough.”

Of course there was. Spencer didn’t tell him that, though. He deflected instead, knowing they’d recognize it and hoping they’d let him get away with it. “You’re being awfully nice to me. I must really look bad.”

To Spencer's extreme gratitude Clint took the bait. He clipped Spencer lightly on the back of the head. “Watch it. I can be nice! I carried your awkward self up here, didn’t I?”

“Mm, yes. Quite impressive.”

“You’re sassy today.” A quick grin lit up Clint’s face. “I kind of like it. I forgot how much your brain-to-mouth filter breaks under pain meds.”

Spencer hummed a noncommittal reply. He meant to pull away, only to find that he’d somehow leaned in again. His good wing curled in a little, wrapping around him and Clint both. In response he felt Clint’s arm slip a little more comfortably around his waist. The skin Spencer had pressed his nose against was vibrating a little with what he realized must be Clint chuckling. “I forgot how cuddly you get, too. Come on, squirt. Let’s get you laying down before you try and face plant.”

There were hands there and Spencer could admit he kind of lost himself a bit in their touches. He didn’t really remember moving, only that one moment he was standing there up against Clint’s chest and the next he was sitting on something soft, pressed right up against Clint’s chest, and something cold was being spread over his back. He made a low, unhappy sound and tried to press closer towards his friend. A hand rubbed soothingly over the back of his neck. From behind him came the sound of Bruce’s voice. “Just a minute more, Spencer. I’ve almost got this done back here. Then we’re going to prop you up with pillows instead of that sling you’ve been lying on and I’ll put some of this on your stitches and other bruises.”

“I don’t think he’s really paying any attention.” Clint pointed out. There was no sign of his earlier laughter. Something else was in his voice; something that worried Spencer. He didn’t like hearing that sound. At the moment he couldn’t really remember _why_ , or what it meant, he just knew he didn’t like it. He must’ve made some kind of sound because Clint rubbed at his neck again and shushed him. Only when Spencer was quiet did he speak again. “Man, he’s really out of it. I haven’t seen him this hazy in a long time.”

“Dr. McCoy said they’ve been having an interesting time trying to figure out pain medications. He seems to metabolize them differently like this.” Bruce said. “Sometimes faster, sometimes slower. This one seems to have hit him harder than the last.”

The cold on his back stopped and then other hands were there, familiar hands, and Spencer let them lay him backwards until he found himself being rested against something that felt like a cloud. He wasn’t on his back like he had been lately. He was on his side, giving his wings room to stretch out behind him. There was a hint of a pang around his stomach, something that was just barely felt through the nice drugged feeling he had going on. Things moved around him until it felt like he was propped up all over. It would’ve been nice if it hadn’t meant that the warmth of Clint’s body was suddenly gone. Spencer furrowed his brow and a soft little noise escaped his throat.

Someone nearby chuckled. “I don’t think you were supposed to move.”

That sounded like Natasha. There was another voice, this one sounding like Bruce, telling them “I’ll let the others know you’ll be out soon” but it didn’t really matter because Spencer felt the bed move and he found himself being shifted yet again, only this time the pillows in front of him were being taken away and replaced with something familiar and so much _better_. A long leg was offered in place of a few pillows and Spencer's head was propped up just enough that he could press his face in against the soft shirt in front of him, just above the annoying line of belt that almost irritated his face. His one arm was curled and gently set between them and his other was carefully laid down on another pillow. Spencer's wings fluttered and he chirruped happily as he pressed his face a bit closer. There was a strong scent of detergent and dog, with a hint of coffee, and it was familiar and comforting and soothing, as was the hand that started to pet at his hair and crest. Spencer chirped one more time and let his body settle down towards sleep.

* * *

It was hard for Remy not to be back in that bedroom with Spencer. Seeing him when they’d pulled up, having to watch how out of it he’d been as he’d clung to his friend, it pulled at Remy’s heart just a little too much. _You’re getting in so damn deep, LeBeau._ The worst part was, he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to stop. Not even being glared at by the freaking Avengers themselves was enough to make him step back. And they were all definitely glaring at him as he made himself at home in Tony Stark’s living room.

So far Remy and the others had only interacted minimally. Despite Tony’s promises for stories, he’d spent a little bit of time quizzing Remy, and once he found out that Remy was one of the people who’d saved him it had sort of been easy for Remy to turn the conversation to the bombing and then, to security. Talks of security had kept them going during any interactions since then. Remy had a feeling that reprieve was about to end.

He took a seat in a chair he’d found out last night was pretty comfortable. It was habit to drop himself down into it in a sprawl. One leg drawn up, heel on the edge of the chair and knee dropped to the side, his other leg stretched out in front of him, his body angled in towards the back corner of the chair. It gave him a pretty perfect view of the room.

Tony had the penthouse suite in his personal high rise. It was gorgeous, which wasn’t that surprising. This didn’t seem like a man who had less than the best. The wall to Remy’s right was pretty much pure glass, windows and a glass door that led out to the balcony. It let plenty of light into the wide open living room. Two hallways branched off if different directions on the side opposite the balcony. One led out to the front door, which was really just an elevator, and the other hallway led to the kitchen and dining area, a TV room, a workout room, a security office, and a library.

A floor above them was where all the bedrooms were. There was a staircase that led there just off the kitchen, near the bathroom, but the elevator would also go up there if needed.

The elevator required a code to use it and another code to get up to this level. The glass was reinforced, something that Remy had encountered on Stark made buildings before. Pretty much hell to break through. The system itself was upgraded to the best of the best—and didn’t that just make Remy’s mouth water a little bit—and the bedroom floor was even more so. So far the other floors weren’t rented out, so there was no one in them using any personal security measures. The floor underneath this suite had been converted into a rather impressive lab, even if Tony had labeled it ‘basic and simple’. But the other eight floors were empty. They were also broken up into much, much smaller units. More room for people to move in, or whatever Tony had planned… and more places to slip inside. Still, the security Tony had on this place _was_ impressive. Very few out there would have the skill level to be able to get in here without triggering something.

Remy already knew exactly the route he’d take to come in as well as three different contingencies.

There was a part of Remy that was just itching to play around with this place. Security systems had always been like toys to him. It was part of what made him such a good Thief. Jean-Luc had joked more than once that Remy looked like a kid in a candy store anytime he got around a new security system. They were a challenge for him. Something to test his skill against. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost. But he didn’t sweat over losing. That just made it all the more challenging. He’d keep coming back, studying and learning, trying again and again until he could win.

He wanted desperately to test himself against this system. Not only was it a _Stark Security system_ —which were the top of the line, and maybe even a little bit of a personal dream to play with—but it was a Stark system that was guarding Tony Stark himself. That had to be even better than the normal ones! Remy had gone up against a few Stark systems before. They always gave him the best kind of challenge.

Being able to actually be inside and look the system over, all with the intention of making sure if was safe for Spencer of course, allowed Remy to get a pretty good idea of what he’d be up against if he tried to break in.

It took everything Remy had not to coo at the computers when he’d looked it all over. Scott had told him a long time ago that it was a bit creepy when he got all soft and sweet with security systems. Then again, Tony seemed to be pretty happy when he dealt with his. He’d probably understand.

Thinking of it amused Remy a little. His lips twitched as he relaxed himself back into the chair. He saw the stern look on Captain America’s face deepen a little and, wow, that man did the ‘I’m very disappointed in you’ look almost as good as Scotty did. It was hilarious to see. Tony was pacing over by the windows, playing with the tablet in his hands, and someone they’d introduced as Sam was calmly sitting on the couch reading a book.

The elevator doors opened and both Natasha and Bruce came walking out together. All eyes went right over to the two.

It was Bruce who reassured them. “He’s fine.” He said first and foremost. “We had to give him another shot when we arrived and it seems to be taking more out of him than before. He’s up in bed, safe and resting just the way he should be. Clint’s with him.”

A small twitch of the lips was Natasha’s only outward show of amusement. Remy wasn’t sure what was going on, but the others seemed to. Tony grinned and Sam was chuckling, while Steve shook his head. “Lucky him.” Tony said dryly. “You at least leave him something to entertain himself with?”

Natasha gave him a dry, ‘are you serious’ look that Remy had seen plenty of times on Belle’s face. The memory made him grin.

“Of course you didn’t. Well!” Dropping the tablet down onto a nearby counter freed up Tony’s hands. He clapped them together and turned to face Remy with a devious grin on his face that promised so much trouble. “Now that our brand new baby bird is safe at home with his big brother as a teddy bear, I think it’s time we finally addressed the creep in the room.”

This was what Remy had been waiting for. He’d tried to prepare himself as best as possible. While he didn’t personally know these people, he knew he couldn’t let them scare him, couldn’t let them cow him in any way. He had to be strong. Because he’d be damned if they were going to mess up what was proving to be the start of something that could be great. Remy knew he had a reputation as a… well, a slut. But he also knew himself well enough to know that he fell easily and he fell hard. He’d fallen hard already. They weren’t going to ruin this. He wouldn’t let them run him off. That meant he couldn’t be a coward. With that in mind, Remy cocked an eyebrow and lifted his eyes towards Tony, a bit grateful he still had his sunglasses on. “Y’ feelin’ lonely dere, mec? Y’ gotta order people to start talkin’ to y’?”

Someone smothered a laugh. Remy ignored it and kept his focus on Tony, who was snorting at him and not looking at all bothered by Remy’s snark. “I looked you up, you know.” Tony said. And Remy fought not to say ‘duh’, because of course he had. He just waited and watched as Tony strolled forward into the main part of the living room and kept talking. “Remy Etienne LeBeau, born an indeterminate time ago. No real birth records for you until you were adopted by Jean-Luc LeBeau and he had one made up for you that would’ve put you at ten around the time he adopted you.”

The way Tony pronounced everything had Remy wincing. “Y’ gotta work on y’r accent dere, M. Stark. Y’r butchering po’ Remy’s name.”

“You really want to talk about _me_ butchering things? Really?”

Remy shrugged one shoulder. Then he let his lips curve into a smirk that was far dirtier than it probably should’ve been. “Spencer likes it.”

The sound of Steve’s sharp “Stark!” cut off whatever Tony might’ve said next. There was a look of warning on Steve’s face that seemed to work to silence everyone. Even Tony. No one spoke, they all just settled in, watching as Steve turned to face Remy. “I’m sorry. I know we probably seem a tad overprotective to you, but you have to understand that Spencer's come to mean quite a lot to all of us, not just Stark here. We’ve known him for quite a few years now and we all care about him.”

“I aint offended.” Remy waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss that thought. He really wasn’t offended. Drawing his legs inwards, he crossed them both under him and sat up a little better in the seat. “Look, _mes amis_ , let Remy save y’ de time, all right. I’m sure M. Stark over dere found out all sorts of stuff ‘bout Remy during his search an dere’s plenty more t’ find through less reputable sources.” With one hand folded in front of him, he gave a small bow in his seat. “Remy LeBeau, also known as Gambit.” He introduced himself. “X-Man, Master T’ief, an prince of de T’ieves Guild. Sometimes I go by Remington Montgomery, a security consultation specialist. I’m married to Bella Donna Boudreaux, head of de Assassin’s Guild, who I talk to regularly on de phone an see about once every five years or so since m’ banishment from New Orleans de day of our wedding.”

His little speech seemed to have stunned a few of them. Sam was kind of gaping at him, Steve looked frozen, Bruce was watching him rather carefully, and Tony had narrowed his eyes on him. But it was Natasha who surprised him. She looked like a few things suddenly made sense to her.

It was Steve who broke the silence. “You’re a thief?”

Of course that was the part he’d picked out of all that. The man really had that whole ‘disappointed in you’ face going on that Remy couldn’t help needling. “Master T’ief, cher. Worked hard on dat, me. I earned m’ title.”

Sam was the one to brush past that and comment on the part of things that Remy had figured they’d all settle on. “And you’re _married_?”

“Sort of.” Remy reached down into his coat pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. He needed something to do with his hands if they were going to sit and talk about this. It was either this or smoking and he doubted they’d let him get away with smoking in here. Usually he wouldn’t care. But… they held the power to kick him out of here and keep him from Spencer. Or, to try, at least. So he settled for shuffling the cards he held as he explained something he hadn’t even told his own team about. “When Remy was a pup, de Assassins and T’ieves didn’t get along, so our parents arranged a marriage fo’ us to unite de Guilds together. At de wedding, her brother challenged Remy fo’ her an we had a duel. M’ powers kicked in hard, Remy killed him, an dey decided banishment was better dan execution.” He executed a particularly difficult twist of his cards and then shrugged casually at their stunned expressions. “We’re _aims_ , most of de time. When she aint tryin’ to kill po’ Remy. _Mais_ we aint in love. Aint been fo’ a long time. She’s got her own partner down dere an she aint never begrudged Remy any partners.”

“That is…” Steven trailed off, obviously not sure what to say there.

Tony didn’t have that problem. “Spectacularly fucked up.”

“Meh.” Remy shrugged again. “Y’ met any of de other X-Men? Wolverine? Rogue? Scotty? T’ink havin’ a fucked up past is just a part of de gig.”

“We’re not talking about working with you, though.” Tony said.

Tension settled low in Remy’s stomach. He didn’t show any outwards signs of it. Not now. Not when they were getting to the most important part of this conversation. “ _Non,_ we aint. Though we really should. I’d love to get m’ hands on y’r security fo’ a bit, M. Stark.” Remy flashed his most charming grin at the man. Then he let his expression settle into something sharper, and just a bit more dangerous. “I respect de fact dat y’r Spencer's family here, _mes amis_ , and I can understand dat y’ want to protect him. _Mais_ let me make m’self very clear here.” The cards in his hands snapped together, a sound that made a few of them twitch, though none outright jumped. Remy pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head and then placed his arms on his knees, leaning forward to better be able to sweep his gaze over them. “Whatever happens between Spencer and I is our own business. If he wants me gone, I’ll go. If he wants me around, den y’ damn well better believe I’m gonna be here whether y’ like it or not. An not even y’r fancy security system is gonna keep me out.”

The fierceness behind his words had a startling reaction. Some of the tension in the room actually bled away. Remy could feel it, not quite sure what to make of it.

Tony’s lips twitched in amusement. “I almost want to see you try.”

Oh, well now. Remy sat up a little and his grin turned sharp. “Is dat an invitation?”

“You know what? I think it is.”

Remy’s grin was growing as he pushed up to his feet. This was going to be so much fun.


	15. Chapter 15

When Spencer woke up hours later, his body felt far more relaxed than it had in a while now, and in quite less pain than he’d expected. In fact, his back and wings barely ached at all, and his stomach was only a dull throb compared to the roar he remembered it being. That would bear thinking about once his brain had turned on a little more. He wasn’t inclined to hurry that process along. He was warm, comfortable, and in minimal pain. Waking up wasn’t high on his list of things to do.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten completely that he hadn’t been alone when he fell asleep in this bed—nor was he alone now. It wasn’t the bed or a pillow that he was snuggling against. As he felt soft vibrations below his cheek and heard a low chuckle above him, it came back to him that he’d fallen asleep using Clint as a body pillow. Apparently he hadn’t really moved because his head was still on Clint’s side, the jut of the man’s hip just below his chin. “Bout time you woke up, lazy ass.” Clint told him, voice tinged with fondness. “My legs were starting to go to sleep.”

That had Spencer trying to pull back almost immediately. Had he really kept Clint pinned here the whole time he’d been asleep? “I’m so…”

“Nope.” The hand on his back pressed in and forced Spencer to stay in place. “If you start apologizing, I’m giving in to the urge to pluck one of your feathers.”

“Make an arrow out of it?”

“Exactly!”

He sounded so pleased with the idea, it made Spencer smile a little. That smile wiped away as other things began to settle in. Ever since he’d seen Tony, there’d been this small twist of guilt low down in Spencer's stomach, one that wasn’t really leaving him alone. It was worse now that he was here with Clint.

Tony was the one that Spencer had known the longest out of them and they were undoubtedly the closest in some ways. But Tony really did seem to have it right when he described their relationship was familial; Uncle and nephew. That was how they were together, how they interacted with one another. They were friends, yes, but they were like family. Tony couldn’t help but look at Spencer and see someone that he wanted to take under his wing and take care of. Steve was just the same way, only a little more ‘you’re not eating enough’ and ‘when did you last sleep?’ and things like that. Bruce, thankfully, was a bit like an Uncle, with a dash of colleague thrown in there, and some friend as well.

Natasha was a terrifying maternal figure who was both sweet and threatening. Whatever the situation called for. They didn’t always talk when they were together. Sometimes they sat together and didn’t talk, didn’t even touch. Other times he curled up against her and she would play with his hair while he talked to her about cases that he couldn’t get out of his head.

Thor… well, Spencer was still slowly getting to know Thor. The big man made him sort of nervous.  And Sam was another one that Spencer was still sort of new with.

But Clint? Clint was… Clint. If Spencer understood family dynamics and descriptions then he’d probably cast Clint in the big brother role. Spencer could talk cases and some things with Natasha, he could discuss science with Bruce and Tony, he could go to Steve or Tony for advice, and he knew he could complain about some people to Tony as well—though that ran the risk of the man trying to _do_ something to them, and that wasn’t really smart—but with Clint, Spencer could talk to him about anything.

Except this.

The guilt grew a little and Spencer turned his face in towards Clint’s shirt a bit more. He hated keeping secrets from people he cared about. The BAU, the Avengers. Friends that were like family. He hated lying to them. But it’d been better, he’d thought. Safer. It didn’t feel that way anymore. It felt wrong and he hated it. “I’m sorry.” Spencer breathed about against Clint’s shirt.

He felt the hand on his back still. Then it slowly started to making light, soothing strokes. “Okay.”

That was it? Just ‘Okay’? Spencer furrowed his brow and curled his fingers around the edge of his cast, instinctively reaching out to twist at the shirt and not quite able to reach. “Okay?”

“I’m a bit bummed you felt like you couldn’t tell me or whatever, but I get it. It’s a big thing to tell someone. Especially when you were in the position you were in. This wasn’t something you could let get out. So… I don’t like it, but… okay.”

He sounded like he meant it. There wasn’t even the hint of a lie to his words. Spencer closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath. “Somehow I don’t think the others are going to take it half as well.”

“No.” Clint agreed, chuckling. “Probably not. I’m sure Tash and the Doc will be fine. They both understand secrets. But you’ll have to deal with the ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ face and whatever Tony has to say about this.”

That made Spencer shudder. No thank you. He really didn’t want to put up with that. Purposely, he pressed a bit closer to Clint, curling his arm tightly around the man’s waist. “Can’t you tell them I’m still asleep?”

“Nope! Gotta face the music, squirt.”

His tone was just a hair too gleeful. Bastard. He wasn’t wrong, though. Spencer did have to face the music. All of his friends had a right to be upset with him for keeping this from them. There were so many apologies he needed to make. Tony, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Derek, Aaron, Emily, Dave, Penelope, JJ… the list went on and on. And that was on top of everything else he had to do today, too. There was too much that needed to be done for him to just lie here. Phone calls to make, people to speak with…

He didn’t know how he was supposed to handle all this. How was he supposed to take on so many things at once? He was injured and needed to recover, something that would usually involve a lot of rest, but there were things he had to do, one piling on top of the other. He had to help find out who exactly was behind the bombing. More than just ‘FOH’. Someone had to be caught and someone had to pay for what was done. He also had to help try and figure out which threats were serious ones and which weren’t, so they knew what to prepare for, and offer insight into the profile that the team might not otherwise have. They weren’t always the best at profiling mutants. Plus, he needed to speak with the other survivors, check in and make sure everyone was okay, and also speak with Brianna to try and see about getting the place cleared out and rebuilt. Because there was no way in hell they were going to let this chase them out of town.

On top of all that, he needed to deal with the fallout of his public reveal. There was press to deal with, friends, his job—so many people who were going to have an opinion on this. People he couldn’t just ignore. He was going to have to make some sort of statement and the idea of that sort of terrified him. He was going to have to also find time to sit down and talk with his friends away from everyone else to really make sure they were okay with this and everything else as well as make sure that they weren’t getting any grief from the Bureau about Spencer's secret. He’d make damn sure to let the Bureau know that his friends hadn’t known anything about this.

He needed to contact a lawyer. It hurt to think of it, yet it was true. He needed to place a call to his lawyer to make sure he was going to be as protected as possible in all this. It wouldn’t surprise him to find himself on the wrong end of a set of handcuffs if he wasn’t careful. There was a lot of blame being cast around and the FBI agent who was secretly a mutant seemed to be an easy scapegoat for a lot of tempers.

It was so much. So damn much. Spencer blew out a shaky breath and once more pressed his face hard against Clint until he drew in the scent from his shirt with every breath he took.

The joking vanished from Clint’s voice and it took on that kinder edge that only family got to hear. “It’s gonna be okay, Spencer. I know it all seems like shit right now, but it will be okay.”

“I know.” Spencer whispered. “I just… can I just…just for a minute?”

He felt a hand ruffle his hair. “Yeah, little bit. Yeah.”

Neither one of them said anything as Spencer lay there and fought to gather back the composure that had slipped away from him. With the presence of his friend in front of him and that steady hand stroking over his back and his hair, he pushed away his fears until the shaking finally stopped.

* * *

By the time the two finally made their way out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen, there was a small part of Spencer that kind of wanted to turn around and climb right back into bed. Who knew that getting dressed and walking to the elevator could be so exhausting? The only bonus he’d found was that he seemed to be moving with a lot less pain than before. A look at his stomach had showed him that his stitches looked better, too. When he’d asked Clint about it, about what Bruce had done, the man shrugged. “He gave you a shot down at the van and another one up here. He said one of them was some sort of thing you guys have been working on, accelerating healing factors and something or other.”

 _Oh_. That had caused Spencer to look himself over with new eyes. He’d helped Bruce a bit the last few times he’d been out to visit. A late night discussion about healing factors had sparked them into trying to find something that could give a mutant’s healing factor a bit of a boost, essentially sending it into overdrive as it healed the body even faster. From that discussion had come lots of visits to the lab, in-depth discussions, and a few trials. The last he knew Bruce had been pretty sure that he found a working serum and he’d been trying to find someone to test it on. He must’ve finally done that. There was no way he’d use Spencer as a test dummy for it. The fact that it worked was amazing, something that he was going to be sure to discuss with Bruce later on. It also meant great things for him. His body was healing quicker than before. He’d have to ask Bruce what kind of results he’d gotten so he could extrapolate his own new healing time.

That also explained why he was so tired and hungry, though. Because a healing factor drew off a body’s personal energy. Sending what minimal one he had into overdrive was forcing his body to draw on reserves he didn’t have.

When Spencer and Clint finally made their way into the kitchen it was to find that everyone was already in there. Natasha, Tony, Remy, and Bruce were all at the table. Tony was scowling at his tablet while Remy was beaming and both Natasha and Bruce were hiding smiles. Over in the kitchen Steve and Sam were working together to make something that smelled good enough to have Spencer's stomach rumbling.

Remy noticed him first and his face lit up at the sight of Spencer in a way that warmed the young genius straight through. “Spencer! It’s good to see y’ up, cher.” The way he said that, with such a big grin, made it clear just how much he meant that.

Everyone turned their attention to Spencer then and he found himself getting swarmed almost immediately by his makeshift family. Sam and Steve were right up front, Steve hugging him and Sam exclaiming a little over his wings, and Bruce was trying to ask him how he was doing while at the same time Remy had managed to sneak around one wing and was behind it, his hand settling into the small of Spencer's back in a touch that was both warm and welcome. There were so many words and hugs that it all blended together.

“All right.” Natasha said, interrupting them all. “Spencer, you shouldn’t be on your feet like this. Come and sit down.”

It wasn’t exactly a request. Spencer let himself be led to a chair at Tony’s side. He turned it backwards, opening up the back for his wings and giving him something to lean against with his front, and then carefully straddled it. While the serum that Bruce had given him _was_ helping, most definitely, there were still a lot of things left that needed to heal. He was going to have to be very careful as his body worked through this.

Once he was settled, he looked over at Tony. The man looked like he was sulking as he kept tapping away at his tablet. Spencer arched one eyebrow, looking over to the others—there were a few smothered chuckles, an outright grin from Remy, and a shrug from Clint—and then back to his friend. “Is there a problem, Tony?”

“Problem?” Tony grumbled the word, scowling a little more. “No, no problem at all. I mean, your little boyfriend over there is a stinking _thief_ and apparently Stark Security _sucks_ , but oh, no, there’s no _problem_.”

Steve sighed. When Spencer looked up, the man was rolling his eyes. His tone, though, was firm. “Tony. Don’t take it out on Spencer just because Remy did exactly what you asked him to do. You’re the one that agreed to let him break into the building. You can’t be upset with him because he managed to do it.”

“Of course I can!” Tony argued back immediately.

What on earth had happened while he was sleeping? Spencer snuck a look at Remy, who was even more smug than before. “You broke in here?”

“ _Oui_.” Remy’s grin didn’t diminish in the least bit. “He said he wanted t’see if Remy could break in. Y’ shouldn’t never challenge a Master T’ief to break in somewhere.” Then, pausing, he turned a sly grin towards Tony, his sunglasses hiding his eyes and the amusement Spencer knew would be there. “Though, really, if y’ wanna make it fair, y’ should’ve probably changed y’r codes b’fore y’ sent Remy out. Did it on m’ own de last two times. De first time, though…” He trailed off and shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do?’, amusement almost radiating off him as Tony’s head jerked up.

“Are you seriously telling me you know a code to get in here?” Tony exclaimed.

“Are you seriously telling me you’re surprised?” Clint asked him. The archer was grinning as he dropped down into a chair at Remy’s side. “I think the better question is _how many_ codes you know. We’ve all got our own.”

The Thief didn’t say a word, just wiggled his eyebrows, and Spencer couldn’t help himself anymore. He chuckled, low and husky. Listening to Tony huff beside him and start to loudly complain about cheating only made Spencer laugh more. He knew Tony well enough to know that the man would wind down eventually. He wasn’t really upset. This was just his usual bluster when someone proved better at something than he did. He’d get this out, mourn the blow to his ego, and then he’d come back more intense than ever, determined to make himself the best once more.

Sure enough, Steve was just bringing food over to the table when Tony finally lost steam in his ranting. It was obvious by the surprise on Remy’s face that he wasn’t expecting it when Tony sat forward and demanded “How willing would you be to do that to a few more places?”

There was just a brief pause where Remy’s surprise showed. Then it was replaced with the biggest grin yet. “Do any of dem got de T3541?”

Tony snorted and gave a look that said he was stupid for asking that. “Of course.”

“What about de Whitewall?”

“A few. If you’re good enough, I might even let you test out the new, updated version.”

Spencer watched as Remy gave a happy little wiggle. The man looked more than just pleased by the prospect of being able to play with Stark Security. “Hell, fo’ dat I’ll even cut m’ fee in half, mec.” Then Remy paused and his head snapped up towards Tony, suddenly serious. “Y’ aint talkin’ bout de Tower, are y’? Cause I aint going up against y’r AI, Stark. Dere’s no way in hell.”

“I don’t blame you.” Clint said, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “JARVIS is tough, man. I wouldn’t want to take him on.”

Steven knocked Clint’s feet down and gave the man a warning glare before setting a few dishes on the table. Spencer realized just how much time he’d lost when he saw it was almost dinner style food. All his favorites, too. The delicious chicken curry that no one made better than Sam, some naan, a dish of potatoes, and plenty of rice. It looked delicious. Spencer felt his mouth start to water as Steve and Sam finished setting out the serving dishes.

Across the table, Remy was busy glaring at Clint, who was giving him a rather amused look. “Aint a matter of tough.” Remy told him, voice scathing. He was clearly offended by Clint’s words, which only seemed to amuse Clint even more, naturally. “Dere’s ways to take JARVIS out. I just aint willin’ to do dem. Dat’s a _bel_ piece of technology right dere. It’d be a crime to do anyt’ing to him! Y’ don’t go in an ruin somet’ing like dat. It’d take weeks, maybe months, t’ prep fo’ a way to take him down without hurtin’ him. Even den, I aint sure I’d risk de chance of doing damage.” He let out a few curses in French, trailing off into a mumble and glare for Clint.

Well, he’d just effectively won Tony over, stroking his ego just enough without even really meaning to. Any worry about Remy having broken through his security was lost now in the face of someone who so openly appreciated his work. Complimenting Tony’s work, especially JARVIS, and with as much passion as Remy had, was a great way to get on Tony’s good side. It showed now as he lifted a finger and pointed it at Remy, grinning. “You’re forgiven for demolishing my security here. Once dinner’s done, you and I are going to sit down and have a nice long talk. I think it’s time we talked prices. And I’d be really interested to see what you come up with that you think could take down JARVIS, with or without hurting him. When this is over we’ll have to go to New York so you can look everything over and maybe write me up a report of what you think could be done. I can test it without actually having to harm JARVIS…”

“After dinner.” Steve cut in. “No business at the dinner table, Stark.”

“It’s _my_ table!” Tony pointed out. He was cut off by a firm glare from Natasha. It was sort of amusing to watch a grown man actually flinch back from her look and hold his hands up in peace. “All right, all right. No shop talk at the table.”

Apparently that meant no shop talk of any kind. Spencer found himself completely relaxing for the first time in days as he relaxed there at the table with his friends and family. There was good food, good company, and Spencer was in less pain than before, plus more alert as the food helped replace some of the energy his healing was taking from him.

None of their topics broached on anything serious. Not until food was done and they were all moved out to the living room to drink their coffee and just hang out together. It was a familiar sight; one Spencer had seen and participated in many times before. The only difference was that this time Spencer had to be set up a bit more carefully than before. However, Remy seemed to have a plan pretty well in mind, and he led Spencer over to the corner of the couch. It only took a second for Spencer to realize what he intended. With a smile, the young genius sank down on the cushion, lifting his wings and pushing them back just enough that he could get the armrest of the couch between his back and his wings. Then he drew them in again, letting them just dangle there. It allowed him enough room to just sit there, or even to lean his shoulder into the back of the couch and rest there. He was more than a little pleased when Remy didn’t hesitate to drop down into the middle cushion and lift Spencer's legs, draping them over his lap.

The others were spread around the room in various places. Clint had set himself up on the ground by Spencer, leaning back against the armrest. It let him reach out and play with Spencer's wings periodically. Natasha took the chair nearby, while Sam and Steve were on the loveseat and Tony had the other chair. Bruce was on the floor by the coffee table, looking quite content to sit down there.

The atmosphere was so relaxed, Spencer forgot about any of his earlier worries. He should’ve known better.

They’d barely gotten settled in when Tony suddenly said “ _So_.” The one, drawled out word drew all eyes to him. He sat back in his seat, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and crossed them at the ankle. He was smirking; Spencer could tell that even before he looked. It was heavy in every single word he said. No one could smirk as wholeheartedly as Tony. “ _So_.” He repeated. His smirk grew a little. “I’ve restrained myself admirably so far, but I just need to point out something here.”

Oh Lord. This didn’t sound promising. Spencer tensed, his hands clenching a bit on his coffee mug. “What?”

“That you’re a liar. A dirty, rotten little secret-keeping _liar_.”

There were sounds from the others that might’ve been protests or simply noises meant to convey offense. Spencer didn’t bother looking at them to find out. He looked at Tony, watching the smug expression there, and wished Tony was close enough to clip with his wing again. The man had done this deliberately, let Spencer get lulled down before springing this on him, the asshole. He deserved a smack. As it was, Spencer had to settle for words, one of the only real weapons he’d ever had and the one he often employed against this menace in his life. “I didn’t technically lie to you. Not once did I tell you I wasn’t a mutant.”

“Yes you did!” Tony insisted. He pointed a finger at Spencer, wagging it threateningly. “When we were talking about that ridiculous brain of yours…”

Spencer cut him off before he could finish. “I told you that my memory was _not_ a result of a mutation. I never said I wasn’t a mutant, just that my mind was not a mutation of some kind.” He felt a small flare of satisfaction when that had Tony snapping his mouth shut. They both knew Spencer would have a much better recall of exact words than anyone else would. Now, it was Spencer's turn to look a bit smug, his own lips twitching with the ghost of a smirk. He always enjoyed being able to temporarily quiet his talkative friend. Making him speechless wasn’t exactly something that was easy to accomplish. Tony recovered quickly, though, and exclaimed, “I can’t believe you never told me about this!”

With a bluntness that silenced a few in the room and had Tony looking like he’d been slapped, Spencer softly said, “I know how you feel about secret identities. This wasn’t something I wanted the world to know.” Sighing, Spencer slumped a little, his wings drooping behind him. “I guess now I don’t get a choice.”

Suddenly, the relaxed atmosphere around him was gone. The exhaustion Spencer had felt earlier was back full force and he just, he wanted nothing more than to be back upstairs in bed. There were too many things he had to take care of, though. Things that he didn’t want to deal with and that he’d put off for too long.

Opening his eyes—when had he closed them?—he looked up to find everyone watching him cautiously. It only made him more tired. He drew in a steadying breath and anchored himself on the supportive hand that was curled around his knee. “My apologies.” Spencer said, trying not to let them hear just how tired he was. “I don’t think I’m as up for company as I thought I was. I think I’m just going to go back upstairs.” Leaning to the side, he set his cup down on the coffee table, one hand braced on Clint’s shoulder for support. Then he sat back and slowly turned his legs to drop them down to the ground. Every move was careful and calculated. His voice was even as he looked up again and asked “Does anyone know where my phone went? I have a few things I need to take care of.”

That seemed to break the silence over the others. “You need to go back up and sleep.” Steve said.

Tony nodded his agreement. “He’s right, feather-head. You look like you’re about to fall over into your plate. Sleep’s the best thing for you now.”

Oh, God. He’d known that coming here meant that he was going to be mother-henned. He’d known it. He’d just forgotten how it could feel. Right now he didn’t have time for all that. He had important things that needed to be dealt with, things that he couldn’t keep putting off, and he just… he couldn’t deal with these guys right now. He just couldn’t. Closing his eyes, Spencer tried to take a steadying breath. “Holding a phone and speaking into it isn’t an exhausting activity. It is also one I can do from the comfort of my bed. I’m quite sure I’ll be able to manage it.”

“That’s not resting, Spencer.”

Steve’s chiding words had Spencer's hand briefly clenching on Clint’s shoulder. His emotions were too close to the surface, too raw, and he knew he needed to get out of here. He needed to get out of here now. That resolve helped him to meet Steve’s gaze without flinching or giving in. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, Steve. I truly do. I know that you’re trying to take care of me. But, I’m not asking permission here.” He saw Steve’s surprise and pressed on before the man could try and interrupt. “This was my business, my safe place, and FOH came in and destroyed it. That was my building that blew up. My friends that were hurt and killed. I’m not going to sit here and sleep away the day when I can help. There’s too much that needs done. Arrangements that need to be made, police that need to be spoken with, insurance that needs dealt with—an entire sheet of calls that need to be made and no one else who is as capable of handling them as I am. So no, I am not asking permission here. Now, will you help me find my phone, or do I hunt it down myself?”

“I’ll bring it up.” Natasha told him, her voice interrupting anything else that anyone might’ve said.

Spencer gave a small nod. Good. Without saying another word, he pushed up from the couch, taking only a moment to steady himself. Then he began the slow trek over towards the elevator. The others watched him go, each one worrying for him, and each one of them knowing that there was nothing they could do for him at the moment. Nothing that was going to make any of this easier or better.


	16. Chapter 16

The phone calls that Spencer needed to make were just as hard as he’d expected them to be. While Spencer started some, particularly ones to check in with his mother and his team first, he also pulled out the StarkPad that was in the nightstand drawer—no real surprise to find that there—and put it to use to send out an email.

As much as Spencer may hate it, he couldn’t exactly be friends with Tony or Penelope without knowing at least somewhat how to use different types of technology. He could even admit that it sometimes came in handy. It allowed him to send a message to Brianna while he was wrapping up his call with Derek. So far she hadn’t been by to visit him, so they hadn’t been able to talk. Not that he could blame her; it was dangerous. He didn’t want her putting herself in danger just to visit him. Email was much easier, no matter how little he liked it.

She knew that about him, too. That was why his new cell phone rang just ten minutes after he sent the email. Only his team, Remy, and now Brianna had the number, and Spencer had no doubt which one it was. Grateful that he’d already ended his call with Derek, he pulled the phone up to answer it once more. “Hello, Brianna.”

 _“Goddamn, Spencer, am I glad to finally hear your voice._ ”

Spencer smiled. “It’s good to hear from you, too. How are you?”

“ _I’m fine._ ” She insisted immediately. “ _I wasn’t caught in the blast like you were. How are_ you _?_ ”

“Healing. It shouldn’t be long before I’m going to be back to my usual health.” His health wasn’t what he’d wanted to talk to her about, though, and he didn’t really want to answer questions right then on how he had managed to heal so fast. Spencer had already spent a bit of time looking at himself and extrapolating just how long it would take him to heal. Judging by his current rate of healing, he wouldn’t be surprised to wake up tomorrow with most of it healed—and completely ravenous, his body eager to replace the energy spent while sleeping. Spencer pushed those thoughts aside and focused on his conversation. “I’ll be fine, Brianna. Right now I’m more concerned about other things.”

He heard her sigh echo loudly down the line. “ _Yeah. This… I don’t even know where to begin on this, Spencer. I can handle a lot of different problems, but this kind of crisis is kind of out of my experience._ ”

They both knew that it was more Spencer's area. Being a federal agent had taught him a lot about how to respond in a crisis. Right now, she needed him to step up to the plate and take over. She needed his expertise and she needed him to be calm and help her through this. The thin layer of panic sitting in her voice hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. That meant he needed to push down his own problems and focus. Relaxing down into his seat, Spencer shifted his weight on the bed and let his head fall back. There was no one to see as he ran a hand over his face and pushed his hair back. His eyes stayed closed. Thankfully, none of his tension showed in his voice. “All right. Tell me what’s been going on, Brianna. What problem seems to be trying to bug you the most?”

“ _I don’t know. Maybe…the… the ones we lost. The hospital keeps calling me… I asked them to hold the bodies for me so I could figure out what to do. So many of the ones we lost, they didn’t have anyone…”_

“They had us.” Spencer cut in. His voice was firm despite the quiver he felt inside. “They had us, Brianna, and we’ll take care of them.” As much as it hurt to deal with, one thing Spencer had always been good with was details. He could handle details. Emotions were pushed down to be handled later. “Let them know that I’ll call them by morning with plans to handle things. That’ll give me plenty of time to start the arrangements. And if you can, get the information of any families who might need help making their arrangements.”

“ _Spencer, are you sure?_ ”

“Absolutely. It won’t be a hardship, Brianna, I promise. I’ll handle it. Now, about the rest. Have you had any word about when the Center is going to be released back to us? I have a few ideas…”

Fifteen minutes later Spencer hung up the phone. They hadn’t fixed everything during their conversation but they’d managed to at least get a start on getting things organized. Neither one of them were willing to let this attack stop what they’d been trying to do with the Center. Some things would have to change, new security measures implemented, but they weren’t going to back down and they weren’t going to go away. They’d rebuild. There were too many who needed their services. It might take a while for people to come back to them—no doubt many were going to be terrified to step foot through the doors when they reopened—but they had to try. They had to.

The list of things that Spencer needed to do had grown quite a bit. So many things he had to take care of, calls he had to make, and yet he was already exhausted. One single phone call and he felt ready to lie down. Only, he knew his mind wouldn’t let him rest.

 _Stop it!_ His inner voice was sharp. _Stop sitting here and whining. That won’t accomplish anything. Get a hold of yourself and do what has to be done. Don’t be weak. They need you right now and you have got to do this_. Brianna had run things for so long, and Spencer had let her, sticking only to paperwork. She hadn’t mind and he hadn’t offered more help. Now it was his turn to be the one in charge. It was time to take a more active role in the place that he’d been funding. This place, these people, they were important, and they deserved the right kind of care.

Spencer blew out a careful breath and picked up his phone once more. He had plans to make.

* * *

By the time Spencer emerged from his room once more it was dinner time. He could smell garlic first as he exited the elevator, followed almost immediately by other spices that let him know even before he got a look just what was being made. Sure enough, as soon as the kitchen was in clear view he was able to see Tony standing there stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce. The sight alone was enough to make Spencer almost start drooling. He ignored the others he could hear out in the living room area—was that Derek’s voice as well? Emily’s?—and made his way over towards Tony.

It was easy for Spencer to stand beside him and let his head drop down to the man’s shoulder. Tony didn’t move, just let Spencer rest there. The young genius took a deep sniff and made a low happy sound he knew would make Tony smile. “I love your spaghetti.”  Spencer said happily. He really did, too. Tony put some extra spices in there that no one else did and it gave it a pleasant kick. They’d made a game more than once out of Spencer trying to guess what those spices were. He hadn’t yet figured it out.

Tony tilted his head enough that he could try and look down at Spencer. The sound he made was sort of a scoff and sort of a snort. “How is it you look even more tired than when you went up there?” He paused and then Spencer just knew the man was smirking. “Unless _someone_ snuck up there when he left earlier. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“No one snuck into my room.” Spencer said flatly. He huffed a little and dropped his eyes to the sauce once more. “I was just… there were a lot of phone calls to make. A lot of things that need taken care of.”

“You need to learn how to delegate. JARVIS!”

To Spencer's surprise—as far as he knew, JARVIS hadn’t been here before—the familiar voice came from above them. “Yes, Sir?”

“Help our winged wonder here with a few things, would you? Whatever he needs, give him a hand getting it together.”

“Of course, Sir.” JARVIS said. If he were a person, Spencer would’ve swore he was smiling. “And might I say, young Sir, it’s a pleasure to see you up and well.”

The words had Spencer smiling a little. No matter how many times he’d tried to talk JARVIS into calling him Spencer or even Reid, the AI insisted on calling him ‘young Sir’ when it was just friends and family near, or ‘Dr. Reid’ when others were present. Spencer had learned to just accept it and appreciate it for the compliment it was. “Thank you, JARVIS. It’s good to hear you, too.” It really was. Spencer didn’t know the details, but he knew some things had happened with the Avengers recently, and that they’d almost lost JARVIS. Had, in fact, thought they’d lost him for sure. But Tony had figured out a way to fix it. It made Spencer happy, not just because he enjoyed the AI but because he knew he could trust JARVIS to always look out for Tony no matter what.

“What can I help you with, young Sir?”

A nudge from Tony sent Spencer over towards the table. He pointed to a StarkPad on the counter. “Take that with you.” And then turned back to focus on the noodles he was just starting to cook.

Spencer rolled his eyes, yet still picked up the tablet and brought it to the table with him. His body was still achy, though a lot more healed than it had been when he’d woken earlier, and he was hungry enough to eat half that pot that Tony had going, but this was all important, it needed to get done, and he could admit that having JARVIS help him would make it all go a lot faster. First, though… “I was making notes on the tablet up in my room, JARVIS. Could you access that and the emails I exchanged with Brianna? It’d be easier than explaining everything from the start.”

“Of course.” There was a brief pause while JARVIS did as suggested and Spencer took the time to sit down in his chair. He’d just gotten settled when he heard the others start to make their way in from the living room area. At the same time, JARVIS spoke again. “I’ve gathered all your information. Where would you like to begin, Dr. Reid?”

The switch from ‘young Sir’ to ‘Dr. Reid’ had Spencer's lips twitching. That switch had to be because of the presence of Remy, Logan, and Derek. The three were following in behind Bruce. A look showed that Sam, Steve, Clint, and Natasha weren’t with them, which had Spencer looking at them curiously, but he didn’t bother asking. Instead, he folded his arms on the back of the chair and rested his chin on them, offering a small smile to his friends even as he directed his words to JARVIS. “We should prioritize things and get them in some kind of order. Some of these are more urgent than others and have a shorter deadline.”

A list was brought up on the tablet in front of Spencer. In a move he’d learned from Tony, he shifted his hand just right to bring the list from the tablet up into the air in front of him. He heard Derek’s surprised breath, as well as something from Logan, but his focus was on what was in front of him. “This is a start.” He finally said. “There are a few things missing, though.”

“What’s all this, kid?” Derek asked him, strolling right up to Spencer's side where he could stand and look over his shoulder at the list.

Spencer chewed on his bottom lip. He ran his eyes over the list, thinking of what needed to go in there. “A list of things that need done. A to-do list, essentially. JARVIS, add ‘Speak with the Bureau’ somewhere towards the middle of the list. Also, I need to go swing by my apartment and gather some things, just in case someone tries to break in there. There are a few things I don’t want to lose. And I should stop in on Mrs. Gilmore while I’m there. It’s almost time for her usual grocery delivery and I’m not sure it’d be smart for me to do it at the moment. I’ll have to make other arrangements.”

That brought a snort from the kitchen area. “You shop for someone’s groceries for them?” Tony called over to him.

Spencer shrugged. Mrs. Gilmore was older and she had bad hips. Shopping wasn’t easy for her to do. If going to the store for her made things a bit easier on her, why not?

He was saved from having to say anything about it by Bruce. The man was bringing a stack of plates and silverware over to the table and he paused near Spencer, eyes darting over the list. “That’s quite a list of things to do, Spencer. Is this in general, or are you looking to tackle this all on your own?”

“He’s learning to delegate.” Tony chimed in cheerfully. A bit smugly, too. “Isn’t that right, JARVIS?”

“Indeed, Sir.” JARVIS said. He changed Spencer's list, adding in the things he mentioned, and then highlighted a few of the items there. “I can make some of these arrangements.” Some of the things he’d highlighted on the list were ‘Arranging for release of bodies’ and ‘Funeral planning’.

The idea of not having to personally plan those out was one that made Spencer want to sigh in relief. He really didn’t want to have to do that. Plus, he trusted JARVIS to make sure they were given a proper funeral. “Thank you, JARVIS. I might have a few more people to add to that list. Brianna’s putting out the word to any of the families she can, just in case they need help. Feel free to access my email and read through what she sends. If there’s any new names, add them to our lists.”

“Of course, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer wasn’t all that surprised when the chair beside him moved and Remy dropped down into it. He was surprised, however, by the hand that stroked through his feathers, and the soft and gentle look he got. “De Professor’s offered to help de families in any way he can. Y’ need any help with dese arrangements, y’ let us know. It won’t hurt his pocket none.”

“It won’t hurt mine, either.” Spencer said. He shifted some of the things around on his list, furrowing his brow as he tried to figure out what else needed to be done.

He felt it as someone came up behind him. The only thing that kept him from reacting was that he recognized Derek’s presence; years working together allowed them to recognize each other almost anywhere. His best friend put a hand on his shoulder, opposite the side that Remy was on, and gave a gentle squeeze. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, kid, but you’re gonna have to bump one of these things up the list.” He looked apologetic as Spencer twisted to face him. “There’s a lot happening, and the Bureau aren’t backing down anymore. They want to meet with you tomorrow. Hotch tried to get them to wait a bit longer, but they won’t budge.”

A feeling of dread curled low in Spencer's stomach. His hands clenched on the tablet briefly before slowly relaxing. He didn’t want to meet with the Bureau. Not yet. Not when he’d just barely begun to piece himself back together.

“Can’t the vultures wait?” Logan snapped, a growl evident in his voice. He was across the table from Spencer now, arms crossed over his chest and his glare fixed firmly on Derek. “He’s just barely outta the hospital!”

“Hotch and Rossi did the best they could, but they were lucky to get ‘em to stay back this long.” Derek admitted. He didn’t sound pleased by it either.

Spencer drew in a careful breath and slowly blew it back out. “It’s fine, guys. I knew it was coming.”

He fully expected some sort of protest from Tony. What he got instead, much to his surprise, was Bruce firmly saying “They can come here for their meeting.” All eyes turned his way and he didn’t flinch from them. He just leaned back against the counter right beside Tony and met their stares with his own calm look. “The last thing we want to do is send you in there without any sense of backup, and they won’t allow any kind of backup with you. Our best bet in keeping you safe is to have your boss tell them that your injuries prevent you transforming back to humor form still and traveling distances is still out of the question. We’ll clear the floor tomorrow afternoon and they can meet with you here, under our supervision. Between us and JARVIS, you’ll be perfectly safe.”

The idea of that was enough to ease the tension in Spencer's body. Meeting here, with the protection of his friends and family, seemed a whole lot easier to think of than going in to the Bureau. Somehow he doubted the final outcome was going to be any different. He knew in his heart how things between him and the Bureau were going to end. But this might keep him just a little bit safer for the time being.

Tony was practically beaming at Bruce. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you’re plotting, sugar lips?”

“Call me that again and I doubt you’ll like what I plot.” Bruce warned him, smiling.

Everyone started to try and plan out tomorrow’s meeting, with Derek stepping aside to call Aaron and Tony loudly making it clear that he was going to be present during this, and Spencer just let himself sit there and listen to it all. Listen to the voices of the people that cared about him and were so willing to do anything to protect him.

He felt fingers in his feathers once more and he turned his head to find Remy smiling at him again. The stress he’d felt earlier while trying to plan everything just sort of fell away in the face of that open and kind look. One with real affection building there, little by little with each passing day.

The whole world sort of sucked at the moment, and there was so much hell that Spencer knew was coming his way, but in that moment he felt the smallest glimpse of peace. It’d be enough to help keep him warm through the days to come.


	17. Chapter 17

It wasn’t that hard for Spencer to decide who was going to be present with him when the Bureau officials showed up. Having Bruce there was a given; the man was going to be acting as his doctor, and that was an easy license to keep him in the room. He didn’t want Natasha in there, mostly because he didn’t trust her not to hurt someone if they upset him, but she was only willing to back out if Spencer let Clint in there, and that was fine by him. Not that the archer wouldn’t hurt someone—he’d just be more willing to listen to Spencer first.

With Natasha staying back, it was easier to keep Tony away too. She understood his reasons for not wanting Tony there and promised to keep him away no matter how little the man liked it. They both knew that having Tony in the room could be a great support for Spencer, someone who gave him both courage and confidence in himself, but it was also a recipe for disaster. Tony didn’t take well to anyone messing around with Spencer. He tended to fall on the overprotective side. This was going to be a delicate meeting and Spencer knew it’d go over better without Tony trying to stand up and defend Spencer's honor. _Especially_ if things went badly.

However, that meant Steve was going to be in there with him, and there wasn’t any chance of persuading him not to be. Spencer honestly wanted him there less than he wanted Tony there. At least Tony knew politics and, if able to be calm enough not to be so protective, he could’ve helped Spencer maneuver things. Steve… Steve was abysmal at politics, and he wouldn’t have any idea how to navigate these waters.

Luckily for Spencer he did manage to get to have Aaron with him. That eased some of the tension in his shoulders. The man was his unit chief, his friend, an ex-lawyer, and a brilliant politician—all important things for this meeting. He was the perfect person to have there and his presence made it all seem less frightening.

That didn’t mean the others were all that happy about being left behind.

“You should have the team with you, Reid.” Derek said firmly, repeating words that he’d already said countless times since he’d first discovered he wasn’t going to be allowed into the meeting. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and glared down at where Spencer had settled onto the couch in the living room of Tony’s suite. “We need to show them that we’re all going to stand behind you on this. Present a united front.”

Stretching his wings back a little—and, God, wasn’t that amazing, to finally be able to start stretching and have the pain be so much less? His estimate had been accurate and he’d woken up this morning ravenous, able to put away one hell of a breakfast, and without a single bruise, cut, or ache in sight—Spencer let them settle behind him. He’d thought about switching back to human for this meeting before dismissing the idea. He was done hiding from everyone. They were here to judge him, he knew. To judge what he’d done and what else he might do. He wasn’t going to hide himself from them. He wasn’t going to be ashamed.

Tony had seemed to agree with him. He’d come to Spencer's room that morning and had brought some rather fancy clothes with him, all made to go on this body. A nice, soft light purple dress shirt that felt heavenly against his skin and a pair of nice black slacks. They paired it with a dark purple skinny tie and a black vest that fit just a bit looser than normal. That had made Tony raise his eyebrows a little. He didn’t comment, though. Thankfully.

Now, dressed as nicely as Tony could make him—though Spencer kept his converse shoes, and damn what Tony wanted—Spencer was just waiting for the agents to arrive.

If only he could just get everyone to be where they were supposed to be.

Aaron was going to be arriving with the other agents. That way he’d be able to come up with them and keep an eye on them. Clint and Steve were already present and stationed around the room. Steve was standing near the windows while Clint, naturally, was on the couch with Spencer, taking up enough space all on his own that there was absolutely no way anyone was going to even try and think about joining them there. He was the picture of well-behaved and relaxed innocence, until someone happened to catch that glint in his eyes, or notice the multitude of weapons he had on his person.

Tony hadn’t left the room yet either; he was leaning against the wall with Natasha close by, the two of them watching the room with interest, while Bruce was off in the kitchen with Logan. Apparently Wolverine and the Hulk were pretty decent friends. Sam was with them, and Derek and Remy were supposed to be as well. They weren’t, though. Derek was still standing here and glaring at Spencer, while Remy was perched on the arm of the couch right next to Spencer's wings.  He seemed to be amused by everything going on around him.

Spencer sighed softly before lifting his gaze back up to one of his best friends. “Morgan, I’m going to be fine. Hotch is going to be with me and you know he won’t let them pull anything. Besides, even if they _were_ stupid enough to try, I’ll have Clint and Steve here with him, and JARVIS is always watching over us here.”

“Indeed I am, Dr. Reid. I am now fully uploaded into the building and, as such, will monitor all security elements and alert you all of any trouble accordingly _._ ” JARVIS said, somehow managing to convey an air of protectiveness that Spencer was used to hearing in Tony’s voice. It made Spencer want to chuckle to think about how JARVIS insisted that he was an AI and therefore had no emotions. Spencer knew better.

“See?” Spencer held a hand up and smiled. “It’s going to be fine, Morgan. I’ll be fine.”

He saw Derek huff and knew his friend was going to give in. It just made Spencer want to smile more. He understood what Derek was doing here; the man wasn’t just being nosey, wanting to sit in. He was worried. Hell, they all were. This meeting had the potential to go really, really wrong in a lot of different ways. Derek didn’t want to leave Spencer alone for that. He wanted to be right there by his side.

Maybe Remy sensed the same thing, because the Cajun pushed up from the arm of the couch and walked right up to Derek, slinging an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, y’ can stay with Remy, cher.” He grinned at the dry look the other man shot him. “C’mon. We’ll go sit in dat big ol’ TV room with M. Stark an have a few drinks while we watch de whole t’ing happen. JARVIS is gonna stream it fo’ us, aint y’, J?”

“Indeed, Prince Remy.” JARVIS confirmed.

Spencer's eyebrows shot up with surprise. He wasn’t the only one with a stunned look, either. The sound of Remy’s title had more than a few people choking on their drinks. Spencer heard someone—it sounded like Sam, and when on earth had he come in?—let out a low “ _What_?” at the same time that Steve’s firm voice loudly demanded “JARVIS, what are you talking about?”

Surprisingly, it was Tony who reacted least. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned one shoulder up against the wall. His lips were quirked up in amusement and he was watching everyone, enjoying their reactions. There was certainly a large enough audience in there at the moment. All of them were looking around, watching Remy and looking at the ceiling like they could see JARVIS there, and then over to Tony.

Even Remy looked a little stunned by the title he’d been given. “J?”

“Yes, Prince Remy?” JARVIS asked politely.

Clearing his throat, Remy shifted, though he never quite let go of Derek. “Dere a reason y’r callin’ dis Cajun a prince? I mean, aint like I aint complimented or anything. Just… curious, me.”

JARVIS didn’t miss a beat. “My information suggests that you are considered the Prince to the Guild, correct?”

The fact that JARVIS was kind enough to leave off what type of Guild, likely because of the presence of the BAU members, made Spencer smile a little. The whole thing was making him smile. Tony was amused by it, JARVIS was amused by it—no one could convince him that the AI didn’t feel things, didn’t have his own personal enjoyments—and Remy looked a bit flustered and yet pleased and somewhat awed by it. “ _Oui,_ cher. Supposed to be more, _mais_ we aint quite worked out all dem details yet.”

“Then my programming requires that I treat such a status with the proper respect, Your Highness, until such time as your status changes.”

That had Tony laughing. “My AI likes you, LeBeau. Be complimented.”

Though Remy laughed as well, there was just a faint hint of color high in his cheeks that Spencer decided he liked seeing there. The Cajun shifted his gaze to one of the nearest cameras in the room an then gave it his best smile. “Y’r a sweetheart, J, y’ really are. _Mais_ , y’ aint gotta be dat formal. Just Remy works fine. Aint like dere’s many dat even know what de Guild is, yeah?”

“Ignorance is not an excuse for disrespect.” JARVIS said.

They were still talking about it as Remy drew Derek towards the hall where Tony stood. The Cajun paused briefly to turn his head and wink back at Spencer, a look that was meant to be reassuring and supportive both. Then the two were gone down the hall and Spencer breathed just a bit easier. Two down, two to go. He watched Tony now, who was still calmly standing there with Natasha. The older genius was watching Spencer with a look on his face that wasn’t easy to read.

Out of everyone here that Spencer knew or was close with, this man right here was the one that he was closest to, the one he’d known the longest. Seeing that uncharacteristically serious look in his eyes had Spencer wanting to reach out to him. To take or offer comfort, he wasn’t quite sure. But, though he kept his hand in place, one of his wings reached out. That brought a smile to Tony’s lips. He reached out his own hand in response and let his fingers drift over Spencer’s feathers. “Remember, keep calm.” He reminded Spencer. “This is your turf, not theirs. They can’t take you out of here, and you haven’t done a damn thing wrong. Don’t let them make you feel like you have.”

“I remember.” Spencer’s lips curved up into a smile. When he’d joined the Bureau and knew there was a possibility of him having to speak in front of cameras, it had been Tony who’d taught him how to deal with those sorts of things. Those kinds of lessons could be easily applied here. Eye contact, smile, smirk even sometimes, keep his pose casual and relaxed, don’t let them see if he was afraid.

Tony tilted his head and looked critically over the way Spencer was sitting. “Sit yourself up a bit straighter, legs crossed. Don’t bother hiding that you’re healed. Brucie can come in and explain it if they need to, and you should let him. It’s better if it comes from him and not you. And…” Reaching up, he tapped at Spencer’s wing that was still near him. The one he’d been playing with before. “Can you lay it along the back of the couch?”

Hm, that shouldn’t be difficult. Spencer drew the wing up and then stretched it along the back of the couch like he would normally do with his arm. The couch back was just low enough for it to work. It stretched it along the full length of it.

That had Tony nodded his head approvingly. “Perfect. Now they shouldn’t be able to see if you get all twitchy in your feathers, at least not on this one.”

“An I can do this.” Clint said, lifting his arm up to stretch out alongside Spencer’s wing. It let his fingers drift into Spencer’s feathers in a touch that was quite relaxing.

Any other planning they might’ve made was cut off by JARVIS announcing that Aaron and the others had arrived. It was time to get this show on the road.

Tony and Natasha left the room and the others waited patiently as Aaron came up with the Bureau representatives. When they finally came in, Spencer took a calming breath and prepared himself to play the kind of games he absolutely hated.

There were three of them. Spencer took a moment to look them all over in as casual a manner as possible. He let his gaze run over them, and profiling them was instinctive. What he was able to read from their body language wasn’t good. It was tense enough to begin with; when they caught sight of him, it only got worse. _Great,_ Spencer thought to himself, watching as their gazes traveled over him, his unique face, and then to his wings. There was enough disgust there to make their opinions of him rather clear. Of course he couldn’t be lucky enough for the Bureau to actually send over someone tolerant of mutants. Of course not. He had to get three men who looked at him like there was something wrong or disgusting about him.

He wasn’t the only one to notice it. A tension took Clint that made it clear his sharp eyes had noticed the same thing that Spencer had. His fingers gave another reassuring stroke through Spencer’s feathers. He must’ve shot a look to Steve as well because the man came over from the windows to stand near Spencer’s other side, right near his wing.

Aaron led the agents in and they settled themselves down into the chairs that had been set out for them. Despite his nerves, Spencer made himself smile at Aaron. They weren’t going to see how badly they were affecting him. “Hey, Hotch.”

“Hey, Reid. You’re looking better.” Aaron said, giving a smile in return.

Spencer dipped his head a little in acknowledgement. “I’m getting there. My doctors have found a few ways to help accelerate my healing factor so we could speed up the healing process. It’s not perfect yet, but I’m much better than I was.”

That seemed to be a cue for the other agents. The one at the center sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat, “Perhaps we could get this started then, gentlemen.” His eyes flicked up to Steve, who was standing silently at Spencer’s side with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a hint of something like awe on the faces of the other two agents at the sight of _Captain America_ but the one in charge either didn’t care or was hiding it better. He actually met Steve’s stare without flinching and held it for a second before he looked over to Clint and then back to Spencer. “If you wouldn’t mind having your friends step out of the room, we can get started.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Spencer stated just as calmly. He saw the surprised way that the agents looked at him, Aaron included, and he lifted his chin a little in response. The feel of Clint’s fingers brushing his feathers helped him keep his courage enough to speak plainly. “My apologies, gentlemen, but I’m quite sure you understand my situation right now. I don’t go anywhere or speak with anyone without bodyguards present. Who better as bodyguards than Captain America and Hawkeye?”

Clint lifted a hand and lazily waggled his fingers at them. His grin was smug and a bit cocky as he told them “I’m sure if you call your friends back at the Bureau and have them check, you’ll find out that I’ve got a higher clearance than anyone in this room, and Steve’s clearance is pretty close to Spencer’s.”

There was no real way they could argue that. The fact that none of them moved suggested that they already knew that; they’d just been hoping to use intimidation to get them out of the room and isolate Spencer as much as possible. If they’d had him at the Bureau, it would’ve been much easier to get him alone, and they would’ve had all legal right to do it. But here, in Tony’s home, he was still a target and as such he was fully within his rights to have his protection with him. Having that protection be two Avengers, well, there was no real way to deny that.

It was obvious he’d set them off balance. Good. It was what he’d wanted to do. Keep them on their toes and maybe they wouldn’t go into this thinking they’d be able to control him.

The man in the middle cleared his throat. He pulled something from his bag—a recorder—and set it on the coffee table in front of them. Spencer watched patiently as the man set up the start of the recording, introducing everyone in the room—his name was apparently Agent Noah Farris, with Agents Ty Jung and Philip Owens on either side of him—and then gave the date, the time, and all the other pertinent information. Then he focused his full attention on Spencer and asked the first question, and the one that Spencer knew was probably going to be the easiest of all.

“All right, Dr. Reid. Why don’t you walk us through exactly what happened that day?”


	18. Chapter 18

Back in the privacy of his TV room Tony sat back his chair and put on his most casual expression as he watched the video JARVIS was streaming for them. He ignored the others around him and focused all his attention on the little genius on the screen. JARVIS gave them both views; one that showed the agents and one that showed Spencer. It was subtle, but he could see the signs of discomfort on the kid and it made him want to be out there even more.

It was torture to sit in here and not be out there with him. Oh, sure, he understood the reasons why and he didn’t blame him. If he were out there, there was no way Tony would be able to hold his tongue. Especially not as they grilled the kid for every single detail.

Off to the side he heard Remy cursing under his breath. They’d gathered quite a crowd in here. Tony, Natasha, Derek, Remy, Logan, and Bruce. None of them were enjoying this. The more tense that Spencer became, the more tense the room became. Natasha had her eyes on the screen and was fingering a small blade in her hand that Tony bet she would’ve happily planted in any one of the asshole-trio.

But it was when they were done making Spencer recount _everything_ and they move on to their questions that the tension really grew.

“When did your powers first manifest?” Agent Noah Farris asked.

A tiny twitch at the corner of Spencer’s eye was his only outward show of discomfort at that question. “Twelve.”

“Dey better not fuckin’ ask him about dat.” Remy murmured murderously. He had a deck of cards in his hands and was shuffling it in a way that just bled threat. Any other time and it might’ve amused Tony just how much threat someone could pack into _shuffling_ cards. At the moment, he was too busy focusing on the implication of Remy’s threats. “You know?” He found himself asking.

Without looking away from the screen, Remy nodded. “ _Oui_. An it aint a pleasant story. Rarely is fo’ us, cher.”

That was another thing to go on the list of questions Tony had for his wayward adopted-nephew.

Luckily for the agent, he didn’t ask Spencer about that, saving him from having not just Tony but a few others come racing out there. No, he was pursuing a different line of questioning entirely. “So you’re telling us that you’ve been a mutant since you were twelve years old…”

“No.” Spencer said, interrupting him with a cool and calm voice. A scientist presenting his facts. “I’ve been a mutant since the day I was born. Being a mutant is about more than powers, Agent Farris. It’s a part of our very genetics, the same as the color of your eyes or your hair. I am, however, telling you that I’ve had my powers since I was twelve years old.”

Amusement tugged up the corners of Tony’s lips. “Good job, kid. Keep him on his toes.”

Agent Farris didn’t look too pleased by Spencer’s interruption. “The fact of the matter remains, if you were unaware of the fact that you were a mutant before that, it’s safe to say that you would be aware after your powers manifested.”

“Hard not to be.” Clint said dryly.

“And yet,” Agent Farris continued, deliberately ignoring Clint’s remark. “When you applied to the Bureau, you reported no such thing.”

Spencer didn’t bother denying it. “That’s correct.”

“Nor did it show up in your medical exam.”

In response, Spencer said nothing. That wasn’t a direct question and Tony could tell he wasn’t going to answer it. Smart kid. Others might not think so, judging by the way that Derek was muttering “Don’t antagonize him, Reid” but Tony knew better. Spencer wasn’t going to directly admit to something if he didn’t have to. Nor was he going to open his mouth and inadvertently let them steer him into giving more information than he wanted. They were going to get only what Spencer wanted them to get.

“Do you understand the seriousness of these allegations, Dr. Reid?” Agent Farris asked him. He folded his hands in his lap and fixed Spencer with a stern stare. “You’ve committed fraud against the United States government. By deliberately omitting your status as a mutant from the government and somehow managing to deceive our medical staff, you’ve committed fraud.”

“Does it still count as fraud when a person is protecting themselves from discrimination or risk of physical harm?” Steve interjected. He was standing at Spencer’s side in his full ‘Captain America’ mode even without the suit. There was that stern disapproval in his gaze that had cracked plenty of people before. Usually, though he didn’t like to admit it, even Tony squirmed under that look. These agents only seemed slightly bothered by it.

“It does.” Agent Jung said. He didn’t look pleased to have to argue with Captain America, which made Tony shake his head, but he held his ground. “It’s still fraud, sir. No matter the intentions.”

Spencer held up a hand to stop Steve. Their comments didn’t seem to be getting to him at all. His feathers weren’t even ruffling. So either he was hiding it really well, or he just wasn’t as worried as everyone else. Tony had a feeling it was probably a mix of the two. His voice was certainly calm when he spoke again. “It’s a matter you’ll have to discuss with my lawyer, I’m afraid. She wasn’t able to be present for this meeting, but she advised me to maintain my silence on this subject until she’s able to be present with me during such questioning.”

That had the others stiffening and Agent Owen scowling. Behind them, Aaron Hotchner looked like he was fighting back a proud smile.

Obviously trying to scramble to get back on task here, Agent Farris pulled up a new question, one that Tony hadn’t expected. “Is it true you have contact with the terrorists known as the X-Men?”

“Ah, _merde_.” Remy swore softly. At the same time, Spencer arched one of his eyebrows at the men. “They rescued me from the bomb site and, when it became apparent that no assistance was going to be offered, they also provided protection for all victims at the hospital.” Left clear was the implication that the Bureau hadn’t offered that protection. When he was sure that dig had sunk in, Spencer continued. “If you’re asking if I’ve spoken with them during that time, the answer is yes. But if you’re asking if I’ve had contact with them before this in some attempt to accuse me of delivering government secrets to an alleged terrorist group, the answer would be no. Even if I had spoken with them prior to these events, which I have not, I swore an oath to protect my country’s secrets.”

The way that Spencer’s wings gave a small flutter behind him showed that the kid wasn’t as controlled as he thought. Tony fought back the urge to march his way out there as he watched Spencer lean forward as best as his wings would let him. He rested his arms on his thighs and lightly clasped his hands together. His eyes, however, were sharp and they were locked right on Agent Farris. “Let’s stop playing games here for a moment, Agent Farris. You and I both know that you’re not going to press charges against me for fraud, no matter how you bandy that word about.”

“Reid,” Aaron said warningly.

A hand gesture from Spencer silenced him. The genius never broke his gaze away from Agent Farris. He was done taking their shit, Tony could see. For the most part Spencer was a rather easy going guy and he took a lot of shit from people. Way more than he should. But everyone had a point where enough was enough and Spencer had reached his.

“You know it’s true, Agent Farris, and so do I. The publicity this would cause, especially on the heels of an anti-mutant bombing, would be horrendous. The Bureau can’t afford that kind of negative publicity. They won’t risk drawing this out into a long, very public battle – and I assure you, I will make sure my trial is _very_ public. I’m not someone you can simply sweep under the rug or bulldoze over. Look around you and think for a moment about who exactly I have in my corner.”

This time Tony’s grin was sharp and proud. He lifted his drink towards the screen in a toast. “You tell him, kitten.”

Tilting his head, Spencer smiled. A small one, but a smile. “I promise you, if you want to make a spectacle of me, I will absolutely oblige you. But you won’t. Because that’s not something the Bureau wants to do. Especially not when there are more important things to be taken care of.”

There was a long moment of quiet. Agent Farris silenced both agents with him, making sure they said nothing, while he continued his stare-down with Spencer. Then he reached forward and deliberately shut off the recording. “What do you want?”

“I want to make a deal.” Spencer said. The whole TV room sat up at that, as did the people in the room with Spencer. He ignored the ones with him and watched Agent Farris closely. “In exchange for you dropping these ridiculous charges you’re compiling against me, I will willingly step down from my position at the BAU _and_ I’ll agree to refrain from going to the press and exposing just how many ways the Bureau has failed since the bombing started. The blatant lack of assistance in relief efforts, the lack of protection detail that any other civilian would have offered, and the fact that not a thing has been done in an attempt to find the ones that did this. Any assistance from the Bureau has been indirect and provided off hours by some of its staff. Tell me, how would the general public react if I held a press conference and told them that the Bureau had abandoned one of its own simply because they were a mutant? How would they react if they knew that the Avengers and the X-Men had to step in because the government had offered nothing in the way of help or protection?”

It was a bold, daring move. Tony was crowing inside at the smarts this kid was showing. He had them backed into a corner and the looks on their faces said that they knew it. What little came next were only formalities. Spencer was going to win this. It just broke Tony’s heart a little that he’d had to lose his job at the same time. He’d caught that, even if the others didn’t seem to be focusing on it.

Natasha was wearing a sharp grin as she watched Spencer. “He’s got them.”

“That’s a hell of a set of balls that kid’s got.” Logan said admiringly.

Over in his seat, Remy had leaned back a little and was fanning his face. “Is anyone else turned on right now?” At the groans around him, he flashed them all a grin. “ _Non_? Just me, den?”

A look over showed that maybe Tony wasn’t the only one who had caught on to all of Spencer’s words. Derek looked pale and his mouth was pressed into a hard, unhappy line. Tony sighed and took pity on the kid’s friend. “You knew it was going to come down to this.” Tony told him, not unkindly. “I know Spencer’s big brain figured it out a while ago. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his job after this.”

“He’s too public a figure now.” Bruce said, looking subdued and sad. He leaned a bit towards Tony, who reached out to touch him just to relax them both. Drawing strength from that touch, Bruce continued on. “There’d be too much discrimination for him to deal with. If he showed up on a case, there’s no telling what kind of crowd it would draw, or how the locals would react. Public opinion about mutants still isn’t that great.”

“It’s not fair, but it’s how it is.” Tony said bluntly.

During their conversation everyone had gotten a bit distracted from what was happening on the screen. At least until Remy pointed out “Dey’re leaving” and everyone spun to look at the screen once more to confirm it. Tony could see Aaron escorting the men to the elevator, thank God, but he saw something else that had him worried all over again. Spencer was on his feet, facing towards the windows, and Steve was marching up behind him with a look on his face that made it clear just how unhappy he was. All of them could hear it clearly as Steve demanded “What do you think you’re doing, Spencer?” He gestured behind him with one hand to the elevator doors that had just closed. “You just gave them everything they wanted!”

Oh, shit. Tony shoved up off his seat and, ignoring everyone else, rushed out towards the living room. He should’ve thought of this. Politics wasn’t Steve’s game. He was a soldier and a brilliant tactician out on the field or in battle. When it came to the press and politics and things like that? The man was a mess. He had no idea how to handle any of that. It was why Tony took care of the press for the Avengers as well as anything else like that. Steve just… he did what he knew was right. To him, what Spencer had just done wouldn’t seem right. The man would only see that Spencer hadn’t fought for himself. That would strike him wrong no matter who was doing it; the fact that it was Spencer would only make it all worse.

When Tony reached the living room, the others on his heels, no one had really moved. Aaron was standing nearby looking unsure of himself and Clint was leaning forward on the couch as if ready to launch up after Spencer and Steve if he had to. Spencer still stood staring out the windows, his wings held in tight against his back in a way that made it clear how agitated he was. Steve, the idiot, didn’t seem to be reading it quite right. He either wasn’t sure how to read those wings yet and how much they gave away, or he was just too caught up in everything else to pay much attention.

“You could’ve fought this, Spencer.” Steve was telling him. “They have no case against you here. With the right lawyer, you could fight this.”

Spencer didn’t bother even moving. “Why?”

“Why? Because it’s the right thing to do! They have no right to take your job from you!”

Without hesitation Tony strode right into the middle of things. He was far too used to being the center of attention, be it good attention or bad. “All right now, everyone, let’s just calm down.”

Of course, that wasn’t what happened. Steve spun towards him and shot him a glare. “Did you see what he did?”

“Of course I did.” Tony said easily.

“And you’re okay with that?”

With feigned nonchalance, Tony shrugged one shoulder. “It’s the smart choice.” Even as he spoke, he kept one eye turned towards Spencer, monitoring the kid carefully. There was a tension in Spencer that Tony had seen plenty of times before. Wings or no wings, this was still the same kid that he’d gotten to know, and his tells were all the same. Spencer was on the edge here and was close to running. It was what he did when things got too bad. Even if it was just to the other room, he tended to run when things got emotionally too much for him. Emotions were never easy for him. The bigger and stronger they were, the harder they were for him to handle. He hated raised voices and he hated anger of any form being directed at him. That was one of the things that Tony had always found so strange about him being a profiler. Working at the FBI put him right in the middle of the kinds of situations that Spencer hated.

Temper flashed on Steve’s face and he opened his mouth to argue, only Tony beat him there.”

“You’re not thinking clearly here, Rogers.” The engineer said firmly. He shifted his weight a little and put himself just a bit more between Steve and Spencer. Not blocking them completely from one another, but granting Spencer the ability to make a quick exit behind Tony and to the hall if he needed to. At the same time he made sure that Steve’s focus stayed on him. “Spencer did the only thing he could do. I mean, yeah, sure, he could fight this if he wanted. He’d win, too, with Jen as his lawyer. But at what cost?”

Remy stepped forward and put himself at Tony’s side in a move that surprised the older man. There was no fear on the Cajun’s face as he stood up to Steve Rogers and calmly explained to him “De whole world knows he’s a mutant now, mec. _Oui_ , he could win a case against de Bureau here an keep his job, _mais_ every case he went on would be another battle. He’d have to fight anyone dat had a prejudice against him. Can y’ imagine doing dat kind of job with everyone ready to hate on y’ de minute dey saw y’?”

“Not only that, but how many people are really going to call in the FBI if they think they’re going to get a team with a mutant on it?” Tony asked bluntly. He hated to say it; hated the way that Spencer flinched under his words. They needed to be said, though. It was the only way to make Steve understand. “He’d be spending so much time fighting off the locals, the press, or any fool in that town with an anti-mutant agenda, he’d never be able to do his job.”

From behind them came the soft sound of Spencer’s voice. “It was the only choice that could be made here, and it was made on my terms.” There was a wealth of sadness there. So much resignation it broke the hearts of everyone listening.

A small shudder ran down Spencer’s body and Tony knew—they’d reached his limit. This was too much for him. Just too much. Maybe if they hadn’t all been in there, a few of them could’ve talked Spencer down, calmed him down enough to stay here and talk about this. But too many things had built up on him and there was too much of an audience here for the kid who’d been taught to never let anything show. Even as Spencer’s wings tensed, Tony knew what he was going to do. He was going to run.

He just hadn’t anticipated how Spencer would go about it. The “I need to get out of here” was expected. Opening up the window and practically throwing himself out of it—not so much.

Tony darted over to the window at the same time as Remy. The others were moving, someone was shouting, but Tony only had eyes for the wings that had snapped out and the body that was now going _up_ instead of _down_. Spencer gave a flap of his wings that took him up, up, _up_ , right above the buildings and off into the sky. _Damn._ Those wings gave him a whole new way to run.

Luckily for him, following after him was a snap.

Tony was already turning to head for where he kept his suit stored here. On his way, he shot a sharp look at Steve. “Pull your head out of your ass while we’re gone, Rogers. I’ll go get him and bring him home, but when I do you better have gotten this out of your system. He doesn’t need us calling his choices stupid. He needs us to have his back.” With that said, Tony was gone. He’d leave the idiot to the others. Right now, he had a different idiot entirely to chase down.

* * *

Spencer didn’t think about it when he dove out the window. All he knew was that he had to get as far away from there as possible. But once he was up in the sky, once he could stretch out his wings in a way he hadn’t been able to for far too long, he found a peace that he’d been needing ever since this bombing. Since before, really. There was a peace to flying that he hadn’t ever been able to find in anything else.

For how long he flew, he had no idea. He circled over DC, went out over the water and let the air blow through his feathers, flying and flying until his wings were aching and his body was trembling from the effort he was putting out. Eventually he had to finally come in and land. He chose the top of the tallest building in sight and set himself down there. When he landed, his legs didn’t want to hold him and he was grateful there was no one to see him come crashing down.

Once he was still, he didn’t move himself much. He simply shifted himself to the edge of the building and let his legs dangle down, his wings stretched out and trembling behind him.

That was where he was still sitting when Tony joined him.

Hearing the sound of Tony’s repulsors hadn’t been any sort of surprise for Spencer. He knew the man would follow him. Tony landed not that far behind him on the roof. After a second, he came forward, suit and all, and sat himself down on the ledge at Spencer’s side. For a long time the two of them just sat there together. It was kind of nice to just sit with him and know that they were both okay. To know that he wasn’t alone.

Eventually, though, that silence had to be broken. There was no way they could sit there all day. It was no surprise that Tony was the one to break it. “You scared everyone with your little dive bomb out the window.”

“I don’t care.” Spencer said flatly.

They both knew it was a lie. They knew he cared. He didn’t call him on it, though.

Something about that spurred Spencer to keep speaking. Words that he hadn’t even known were inside him came tumbling out and there was nothing Spencer could do to stop them. “I don’t care.” He repeated, his voice aching. “I don’t care how worried everyone else is. I don’t care about their feelings right now. I can’t! I’ve been worrying about everyone since the moment I woke up. I’m so tired of having to be the adult here, Tony. I’m tired of always having to be the one to take the hits and just keep getting up afterwards. No matter what happens, it’s expected that I get back up, that I be the bigger person. That I don’t fight back because it’s not a fair fight. That I do fight back so I can stand up for other people. I’m always being told to be the bigger person, to be the adult, and I’m just… I’m so damn _tired_ of it. I don’t want to be the adult anymore.”

“Then don’t be.” Reaching out, Tony caught hold of him with one hand and used that hold to drag Spencer in so he was tucked under one arm. It was a rare glimpse into that softer side that Spencer was one of the few to get to see.

Closing his eyes, Spencer rested his cheek against his friend. “I don’t know how to be anything else anymore.”

“Yeah, well, luckily for you I know a few people who are pretty damn good at scientist wrangling.”

That brought a hint of a smile to Spencer’s lips. “They’d have to be, living with you.”

Tony tugged Spencer in a little more and gave him a small shake. “Brat.”

They sat there for a few moments longer and Spencer found himself slumping against Tony’s side. Exhaustion was truly settling in and he just, he didn’t have the strength to fight it. Letting out everything there to Tony had taken too much of his energy with him. He just...he couldn’t right now. He just couldn’t. Turning his head, Spencer pressed his cheek against Tony’s armor and just let himself lean for a little while.

He wasn’t sure when he started to drift off to sleep. Only that Tony was tapping at him suddenly and asking him “Hey, Tweety, come on now. I can’t have you falling asleep here. I can’t carry you back with those great big wings of yours.”

Instead of moving, Spencer reached down inside himself and done what he hadn’t been able to yet so far since the whole bombing had happened—he twisted that place inside of himself that drew his wings back in and let his body shift back to its human form. Above him, he heard Tony suck in a surprised breath, followed by a “Well holy shit” and then “We are so studying that later, kitten. But when you’re more alert to answer some questions for me. For now, c’mon, let’s get your ass home.”

Plenty of people would’ve been surprised if they’d looked up right about then. They would’ve seen Iron Man holding on to a slender figure like it was the most delicate of packages. With Spencer in his arms, he flew back to his penthouse, bypassing the rest of the team entirely to land on his private dock. He kept the suit on as he made his way to his bedroom where he found Bruce already waiting for him. The man looked up the instant they came in and he started to push up when he caught sight of Spencer in Tony’s arm.

Opening the mask, Tony quickly told him “He’s okay.” Then he came forward and laid Spencer down gently on the bed. To no surprise, he found the kid passed out. “He just exhausted himself, that’s all.”

Bruce still checked him, feeling his heart and palming at his forehead. “This was hard for him.”

Because it was just Bruce here, Tony let out the words that were burning in his throat. His own worries that had been plaguing him as the watched the kid. “He’s burning out, Bruice. They’re asking too much of him and he’s burning out.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

The firmness of Bruce’s tone made it sound like it was just something simple and easy. Like he was daring anyone to try and convince him otherwise. Hearing it, Tony reached out and cupped his face, leaning in for a quick and hard kiss. “You’re amazing.” He said when they pulled apart.

The shy little smirk that curved the other man’s lips was pure Bruce. Only he could manage to smirk and still look shy at the same time. “We’ll figure this out, Tone. We’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Damn right they would. The rest of the world and its issues was going to have to wait, because there was no way in hell Tony was leaving here yet. He’d planned on coming out here to make sure that Spencer was okay and to see what he might be able to do to help. Now? Now, he was damn well going to make sure that things ended up okay. He wasn’t going to sit aside and watch as the kid they’d all adopted kept getting screwed over. There had to be something he could do to help. He just needed to figure out what that something was.


End file.
